THE  LIBRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CALIFORNIA 


LOS  ANGELES 


SELENE 


BY 

AMELIE   RIVES 

PRINCESS  TROUBETZKOY 


NEW  YORK  AND    LONDON 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS 

PUBLISHERS        ::        MCMV 


Copyright,  1905,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

Ml  rifAis  reserved. 
Published  March,  1905. 


College 
Library 
PS 


TO     MY     DEAR     FRIEND 
HENRY    MILLS    ALDEN 


SELENE 


FROM  April  Latmos  and  the  deeps  of  night, 
Down-faring  with  a  mighty  wind  that  seemed 
The  breath  of  the  wild  moon,  came  one  alone, 
Unquiet  where  all  else  was  quietude. 
With  skyey  gait,  on  sandals  sharp  with  sleet, 
Glistering  she  sped  along,  while  at  her  heels 
Two  hounds  as  grey  as  dawn  leaped  airily, 
Nor  seemed  of  heavier  substance  formed  than 

that 

Of  which  the  dawn  is  fashioned.    On  her  brow 
A  jewel,  clear  like  ice  and  white  like  flame, 
In  shape  a  crescent,  burned  with  steady  glare 
Of  lustre  delicate,  and  as  she  ran 
Lit  up  her  crisp,  pale  profile,  arrogant 
Against  the  dim  serene  of  forest  gloom. 
Behind  her,  like  a  saffron-coloured  cloud, 
Blown  backward  from  the  new  moon's  slender 

horn, 


SELENE 

Her  tresses,  by  her  vehement  speed  unloosed, 

Melted  in  golden  mist  upon  the  wind. 

Tall  was  she  and  of  form  so  buoyant  bright, 

Not  that  fair-seeming  wrought  of  sunset  clouds 

To  mimic  Argive  Helen  and  to  lure 

The  wroth  Achaians  unto  bitter  war, 

Had  skimmed  more  light  above  the  stolid  earth. 

A  many-plaited  skirt  of  lissom  white 

Was  from  her  shining  knees  up-caught  and  drawn 

Beneath  a  girdle  starred  with  chrysoprase, 

With  jacinth,  and  with  rubies.     On  her  breast, 

Wide-spaced  and  maiden-small,  an  armour  fair 

Of  crystal  patines  lapping  scales  of  jade 

Dissolved  with  her  quick  breath,  from  white  to 

grey, 

From  grey  to  white,  like  spangles  that  bestrew 
A  moonlit  wave,  while  'gainst  the  nipping  air, 
A  silvery  fawn-skin  o'er  her  shoulders  hung, 
Whereon  the  tiny  tips  of  antlers  gold 
Seemed  crocus-buds  outpeering  from  a  fleece 
Of  new-fallen  snow.     Her  bow  was  in  her  hand, 
And  ever  as  she  leaped  along  the  way, 
More  swift  of  startled  flight  than  once  had  been 
The  sacred  fawn  whose  pelt  now  covered  her, 
The  crystal  arrows  in  her  quiver  clanged. 
Thus  for  an  hour  she  fled,  nor  paused  for  breath, 


SELENE 

Nor  loosed  her  eyelids  from  their  curve  intense, 
Until,  beside  a  pool  o'erglazed  with  ice, 
That  in  the  heart's  core  of  the  forest  lay 
As  doth  a  cold,  dark  thought  in  hearts  of  men — 
Ay,  and  of  gods  sometimes — she  stopped  abrupt, 
Paused,  smiled    unmirthful,  then,  with    sudden 

frown, 

'Whereat  the  night  took  on  a  shadow  weird, 
Drave  her  bright  bow  sheer  through  the  skim  of 

ice. 

It  splintered  into  shape  of  a  vast  star, 
And  'neath  the  opal-fringed  float  of  light 
From  that  clear  crescent  melted  swift  away 
As  though  beneath  the  gaze  of  Helios. 
Anon  came  bubblings  soft,  and  limpid  gush 
Of  music,  airy,  lorn,  mysterious, 
Like  that  which  fluctuates  on  stilly  nights 
About  the  hollow  silence  of  a  ship 
Wherein  a  poet  lies  awake  for  love. 
Next  rose  a  vapour,  whorl  on  delicate  whorl 
Uncoiling  in  the  starry  frost  above, 
Until  the  pool,  deep-sunk  in  greenery 
Enamelled  all  with  glair  of  frozen  mist, 
Was  like  unto  a  Titan's  drinking-cup 
From  hugest  emerald  scooped  and  hurled  by  Zeus, 
In  wrath,  from  heaven.    Slow  those  milky  plumes 

3 


SELENE 

Of  vapour-delicate,  earthward  to  float, 
As  from  a  white  dove's  breast  the  feathers  torn 
By  beak  of  eagle  fierce,  cloud-high  in  air ; 
More  slower  still  to  melt,  for  long  or  they, 
Like  shadows  white,  had  stolen  beyond  her  ken. 
The  eager  huntress  saw  a  gleaming  shape 
Shine  through  them,  as  a  slender  shaft  of  foam 
Shines  through  the  curtains  of  the  fog.     Then 

chords 

Of  subtle  harmony  shrilled,  and  then  a  voice 
Only  less  sweet  than  that  wherein  the  moon 
Sings  to  the  listening  stars— -"  O  thou  most  dear, 
Long  wished  for  and  unseen  for  many  a  day, 
Wherefore  now  comest  thou  on  eager  feet, 
With  quiver  brimming  and  with  bow  unstrung  ?" 
Whereat  the  other,  half  as  she  would  weep 
For  anger,  or  for  sorrow,  or  for  both, 
Reached  out  her  silver  arms,  and  in  a  tone 
Of  sweetness  still  more  spherey  exquisite, 
Exclaimed:  "O  Sterope"!     O  nurse  beloved, 
Delay  not  in  thy  coming,  for  to  thee, 
To  thee  alone  of  all  created  beings, 
Turn  I  for  counsel,  ay,  mayhap  for  comfort!" 

As  when  from  tenting  clouds  of  twilight  grey 
Forth  leaps  the  summer  lightning  delicate, 

4 


SELENE 

And  with  one  scintillant  stroke  of  her  keen  wand 
Transforms  the  further  heaven  into  a  rose 
Of  golden  fire,  auroran,  myriad-petalled, 
Whereto  the  stars  like  jewelled  bees  do  cling, 
So  at  that  last  word  "comfort "  there  sprang 

forth 

From  out  the  shrivelling  mist  a  splendour  swift, 
Shaped  like  a  woman,  on  whose  forehead  glanced 
A  beamy  star  of  radiance  palpitant. 
Now  with  a  tangled  skein  of  rainbow-light 
It  meshed  her  brow,  now  in  one  steadfast  hue, 
Like  to  a  flower  of  violet  crystal  shone, 
Ridging  her  crispy  hair  with  purple  dusk 
And  purpling  even  such  heavenly  stars  as  flashed 
Through  its  transparent  tremble.     To  her  limbs, 
Haughty,  as  of  a  goddess,  there  did  cling 
A  sleek,  bright  gown  of  rippled  silver,  strewn 
With  sea-weed  variegate  and  little  shells 
Rose-pale  and  curled  as  the  scattered  leaves 
Of  apple-blossoms.     Such  her  dress.     Her  eyes 
Had  looked  on  dying  love  and  in  her  voice 
Thrilled  low  that  unemotional  despair 
Of  one  who  long  ago,  who  all  alone 
His  requiem  had  chanted.     Not  in  vain 
That  shining-footed  one  had  called  to  her, 
For  straightway  to  her  breast  she  drew  the  maid 

S 


SELENE 

With  murmurs  inarticulate,  which  are 

Of  love  the  most  expressive — such  soft  sounds 

As  brooding  birds  make   o'er   their   timorous 

young, 

By  cry  of  distant  hawk  or  owl  alarmed. 
Then  swiftly  spake:  "  For  comfort,  sayest  thou ? 
For    counsel  ?     Dost    thou    come    to    me    for 

these  ? 

Ay,  or  to  any?     If  so,  child,  wherefore? 
Nor  longer  hold  me  in  this  dire  suspense, 
Nor  with  thine  eyes  affrayed  question  me, 
But  clearly  speak,  nor  anything  hold  back, 
Since  to  their  nurses,  maids,  though  goddesses, 
Will  often  tell  what  to  their  mothers  dear 
They  do  not  utter."     But  that  lovely  one 
Replied  not  till  some  minutes  bright  had  fled 
And  a  dark,  gauzy  cloud  o'erveiled  the  moon, 
When,  with  quick  fingers  in  the  silver  cord 
Of  her  relaxed  bow,  she  answered  thus: 

"Nay,  dearest  nurse,  thou'dst  speak  in  other 

wise 

Couldst  thou  but  even  faintly  dream  the  truth. 
Alas!    Alas!     How  may  I  tell  thee  of  it, 
Who  know  not  yet,  in  very  honesty, 
What  to  the  full  it  means,  nor  why,  indeed, 

6 


SELENE 

My  heart  so  hurries,  being  not  urged  thereto 
By  wrath  or  fear,  or  sight  of  goodly  game." 

But  Sterope",  too  loving  to  be  patient, 
Ceased  not  to  coax  her  till  the  truth  was  told ; 
And  in  this  wise  she  told  it:  "Hear  thou,  then, 
O  more  than  mother,  hear  these  dizzy  words 
That  past  thine  ears  will  fall,  as  in  a  dream 
Fall  the  firm  stars  past  eyes  of  mortals — hear! 
Nor  eve  it  was,  nor  night,  but  that  pale  hour 
When  Helios  doffs  his  robe  of  wavy  flame, 
And  in  his  winged  boat,  whose  dim,  grey  vans 
Shed  over  sea  and  land  their  plumage  frail, 
Doth  lay  him  down  to  rest.    I,  having  stooped 
To  bind  the  evening-star  upon  his  mast, 
That  by  its  light  the  pilot  Wind  might  steer 
Nor  drive  ere  dawn  upon  a  bank  of  clouds, 
Took  then  my  silver  bow,  and,  stealing  swift 
Along  the  sapphire  ramparts  of  the  night, 
Leaped  like  a  falling-star  to  Latmos." 

"  Nay, 

Too  much  of  falling-stars,"  sighed  Sterope' — 
"An  omen  ill  in  this.     But  tell  me  more." 

"  Thou  knowest  well,  none  better,  sweetest  nurse, 

7 


SELENE 

How  from  my  birth  I  loved  the  free,  wide  life 
Of  wood  and  meadow ;  how  with  kirtle  shortened, 
Hair  bound  in  mimicry  of  thine,  and  bow 
Bent  from  a  laurel  twig  and  strung  with  strands 
Of  thy  long,  twinkling  tresses,  I  would  skim 
On  eager  tiptoe  after  butterflies, 
Speeding  my  tiny  shafts  so  skilfully 
That  ere  I  ended  myriads  to  the  stem 
Of  birch  and  olive  by  those  arrows  pinned, 
Like  unto  wind-stirred  blossoms  there  would 

flutter. 

Ay,  well  thou  knowest,  how  since  a  little  maid 
I  loved  mine  own  bright  freedom  more  than  love — 
Such  love  as  maidens  dream  of  ere  they  sleep! 
Or  had  such  lightsome  thoughts  disturbed  my 

rest, 
With    arrowy    laughter    I    had    pierced    them 

through, 

As  with  my  childish  shafts  the  butterflies. 
No!  mine  it  was  to  feel  the  larger  zest, 
The  nobler  ache,  the  frenzy  all  divine 
Of  maidenhood  that  knows  itself  a  power, 
A  force  supreme  through  very  loneliness! — 
Mine,  mine  the  ecstasy  of  fellowship 
With  winds  and  waves  and  frost,  and  fire  itself ; 
Possessing  all  things,  yet  by  none  possessed; 

8 


SELENE 

Serving  all  creatures,  yet  to  none  a  slave; 
Mine  to  smile  kindly,  but  with  wonder  deep, 
On  lovers  throbbing  at  my  silver  shrine; 
So  lovelier  far  appeared  to  me  the  lives 
Diverse  of  those  who,  sharing  not  their  souls 
Each  with  one  other  only,  give  to  all 
Freely  of  what  in  freedom  they  acquire, 
Nor  by  such  gifts  aught  lose,  but  rather  gain." 

She  paused  and  with  her  bright  hair  veiled  her 

face, 

While  once  again  that  shadow,  mystic-wan, 
As  of  a  swift  eclipse,  saddened  the  night. 
Then  came  a  long,  long  sigh,  a  shudder  deep, 
As  though  some  cruel  thought  or  memory 
Her  very  soul  upwrenched  by  the  roots; 
Whereat  pale  Sterop6:  "Alas  and  woe! 
What  hast  thou  done,  my  nursling,  dearer  far 
Than  mine  own  child,  had  I  or  son  or  daughter — 
What  hast  thou  done,   or  who  to    thee  hath 

brought 
Dismay  and  sorrow?"     Thus  again  that  other: 

'"  Listen  and  thou  shalt  hear,  for  to  the  loving 
The  gods  their  secrets  tell  whether  of  good 
Or  evil,  dark  and  wingless.     Came  I  then 

9 


SELENE 

To  Latmos  all  alone,  for  even  nymphs 
Wax  wearisome  at  times,  like  mortal  maids, 
And  with  their  chatter  fright  away  high  thoughts 
As   sparrows  drive   sweet    song-birds   from   a 

grove. 

Alone  I  came  and  glad  for  loneliness; 
Shrill  with  imagined  music  was  my  breast, 
For  there  to  give  it  voice  I  did  not  choose, 
Lest  I  should  startle  up  some  drowsy  stag 
Beyond  my  arrows'  range.     But  suddenly, 
Off  sped  my  hounds  across  a  shining  lawn, 
Like  shadows  fleet  of  mated  hawks  that  sweep 
Above  a  winter  field  in  Libya. 
A  lovely  doe  it  was,  as  lustrous  fair 
As  clouds  that  near  the  full  orb  of  the  moon, 
With  hoofs  as  bright  as  these  my  sandals  are. 
Swift  I  to  follow,  for  with  hurrying  feet 
The  ways  that  lead  to  woe  are  ever  trod, 
Though  afterwards  we  marvel  at  our  haste." 

Then  Sterope's  bright  star  did  flicker  down 
And  leave  her  forehead  dim,  she  crying  out: 
"Alas!  alas!  for  thee  and  me,  my  child, 
Since  wisdom  bitter-true  as  this  thou  speakest 
Not  even  the  gods,  not  even  thou,  Sel6n6, 
Except  through  dire  experience,  can  know." 

10 


SELENE 

Whereat  the  fair  girl-goddess,  crystal  pale 
As  with  the  presage  of  immortal  grief, 
Faltered,  but  spake  anon,  her  face  still  veiling: 
"  Quickly  I  followed,  quick  mine  arrows  sped; 
I  heard  the  chimy  baying  of  my  hounds 
Ring   on   the    dark,    like    stroke    of    steel   on 

steel, 

Now  low,  now  loud;  nearer,  then  far  away; 
And  still  I  followed  over  brook  and  hill, 
Through  wilds  of  matted  gorse,  through  coverts 

deep, 

Shredding  my  silver  wimple  on  the  boughs 
Of  many  a  thorn-tree,  leaving  everywhere 
Sparkles  of  silver  from  my  sandals  bright. 
So  keen  my  zest,  so  vehement  my  desire, 
So  filled  my  veins  with  that  ecstatic  rage, 
Mysterious,  of  the  hunter  for  the  prey — 
Rage  that  is  not  mere  cruelty,  and  yet 
Doth  lead  the  mildest  souls  to  cruel  deeds. 
Yes,  Artemis  I  was  then,  not  Selene, 
For  many  maidens  in  one  goddess  dwell. 
To  Phcebos  I  am  Phcebe,  silver  twin 
Of  his  gold  godhead.     Unto  thee,  Selene, 
The  meek,  the  soft,  the  loving;  unto  men, 
Ay,  unto  rebel  Titans,  Artemis, 
She  of  the  fatal  arrows — Artemis, 

a  IX 


SELENE 

Whom  it  were  death  to  anger — Artemis, 
Whom  it  were  death  to  love!" 

There  stole  a  hush 

Through  all  the  vasty  hollow  of  the  night, 
Even  as  though  great  Nature  held  her  breath, 
Hearing  from  Dian's  lips  inviolate 
The  name  of  Aphrodite's  withering  son. 
But  she,  that  fearless  one,  shook  back  her  hair 
With  sculptural  smile,  disdainful,  of  a  goddess, 
And  thrust  her  shining  bow  into  the  gloom, 
There  whirling  it  with  movements  powerful 
Of  her  slight  wrist,  until  upon  the  darkness 
A  sphere  was  drawn  as  though  in  diamond  dust 
Streaked  through  with  fire  of  ruby  and  of  beryl. 
Then  one  by  one  her  arrows  to  the  cord 
Fitted  and  sped  along  the  violet  sea, 
Where  bright  they  swam,  nor  did  the  Nereids  dare 
To  steal  the  sacred  shafts  of  Artemis. 
So  there  they  floated  till  that  Eos  woke 
And  gathered  them  into  her  pinky  kirtle, 
That  she  at  evening  time  might  give  them  back 
Unto  her  sister  dear.     Ah,  had  she  known 
That  of  those  deathly  arrows  one  would  pierce 
The  breast  of  great  Orion!     But  mighty  Fate 
A  darksome  veil  can  spin  o'er  brighter  eyes 

12 


SELENE 

Than  those  of  Dawn;  ay,  o'er  the  sparkling  feet 
Of  Artemis  herself  could  cast  her  web, 
Fearful,  of  dingy  hue.     And  on  that  night 
She  chose  to  cast  it. 

Sterop6  still  trembled 
Beneath  the  awful  name  of  Love,  but  she, 
The  arrogant  in  chastity  untempted, 
Who  scorned  sweet  kisses,  knowing  not  to  kiss, 
And  lightly  took  Love's  mighty  name  in  vain, 
Having  yet  no  need  to  utter  it  in  prayer — 
She,  the  maid-goddess,  laughed  like  mortal  maids 
Whose  mood  has  been  too  serious — "Nay,  fair 

nurse," 

So  she  began,  "  as  solemnly  I  spake 
As  I  had  been  the  owl  of  Pallas,  fresh 
From  gazing  on  a  sleeping  Gorgon.     Nay — 
By  Pallas'  self! — no  Gorgon  'twas  I  saw." 

"Thou  sawest?"  breathed  shuddering  Sterope". 

"Thou  sawest? 
Speak,    child.     What    sawest    thou?     Ai!     Ai! 

Great  Here! 
Pitiless  art  thou  who  dost  work  such  horrors." 

"'Horrors? 'sweet  nurse?   But  listen.   Once  again 

13 


SELENE 

I  am  Sel6n6.     Gently  will  I  speak 
Of  things  most  gentle.     All  my  shafts  are  sped ; 
Once  more  that  nameless  trouble  stirs  my  breast, 
And  what  I  feel  I  know  not  how  to  voice. 
Yet  will  I  tell  thee  all,  and  thou  to  me 
My  new  mood  shalt  interpret.     On  I  fled, 
Faster  and  yet  more  fast,  till  at  the  end, 
With  my  loud-breathing  dogs,  I  ran  abreast, 
When,  as  a  white  sail  dives  into  a  gulf 
Of  dark  ing  water,  out  of  sight  the  doe 
Plunged,  and  the  hounds,    osing  the  scent,  ran 

wild, 

Their  frothy  muzzles  dappling  all  the  grass 
O'er  which  in  vain  dismay  they  circled.     Next — 
Ah,  Sterope,  dear  nurse,  even  to  thee 
How  can  Selene  word  what  next  befell  ? — 
I  stooped,  and  by  the  jewel  on  my  brow 
Gazed  deep  into  that  hollow  where  had  leaped 
The  magic  doe,  for  this  I  truly  deem  her; 
How  else  could  she  have  'scaped  my  hounds,  my 

arrows  ? 

Stooping,  I  gazed,  but  saw  no  jagged  cliff 
Plumed  here  and  there  with  ferns,  no  maw  of 

stone 

With  the  black  foam  of  darkness  overflowing — 
Only  a  breeze-stirred  veil  of  ivy-leaves 

14 


SELENE 

Glossed  all  with  brittle  dew,  that  in  the  gleam 

Down-wavering  from  my  crescent  shook  abroad 

A  shower  of  spangles  azure-white  and  chill. 

This,  with  my  bow,  I  parted,  and,  behold! 

An  airy  scoop  i'  th'  mountain- side,  whence  crept 

Globe  after  globe  of  vapour  luminous, 

Like  spheres  of  dandelion-seed  impelled 

By  breath  of  lazy  Titan  hid  within. 

At  last  they  rolled  no  more,  and  all  grew  dim — 

The  dimness  of  a  crimson  lily-flower 

Wherethrough  the  moonlight  seeps,  for  here  the 

cave 

Was  lined  with  royal-coloured  porphyry, 
In  hugest  natural  slabs  up-piled.     Nor  long 
I  hesitated  but  w  th  arrow  drawn 
Up  to  my  ear-tip,  dashed  beneath  the  vine. 
Scarce  twenty  paces  had  I  ta'en,  when  lo! 
I  stood  within  a  grotto,  winter-white, 
Yet    like    the    summer   warm.      All   tenderest 

flowers 

Netted  the  sparry  walls,  and  on  the  floor, 
With  sand  more  pure  than  powdered  pearl  be 
strewn, 

The  fallen  blooms  like  little  shells  did  lay — 
Some  twilight -blue,  some  freckled  o'er  with  gold, 
Some  whorled  with  milky-green  and  lilac  dim, 

15 


SELENE 

Some  faintly  rosed  about  the  silver  heart, 
Some  splashed  with  carmine,  some  with  violet 

rimmed. 

More  lovely  they  of  weird,  fantastic  hues 
Than  thou  shalt  see  a  mermaid's  changeful  scales, 
And  of  so  sweet  a  perfume  one  would  think 
All  fair  spring  days,  since  first  the  seasons  reigned, 
Had  wandered  there  to  die.     No  light  there  was 
Save  that  my  crescent  shed,  no  sound  more  harsh 
Than  that  of  water  stealing  as  through  dreams. 
Far,  far  without  I  heard  the  booming  note 
Of  my  bewildered  hounds,  a  rustling  faint 
As  of  a  dryad  stealing  from  her  tree; 
A  nightingale's  wild 'Itys!     Itys!'     Then 
No  more  I  heard  save  noise  of  mine  own  heart, 
That  seemed  to  echo  'Itys.'     On  I  fled. 
Like  moonstone  now  the  sheeny  floor  appeared, 
And  as  I  ran,  another  Artemis 
Pressed  her  fleet  foot  to  mine  and  ran  with  me, 
Head  downward  in  her  pallid,  starless  heaven. 
Meseemed,  O  nurse,  she  mocked  at  me  and  smiled 
Where  I  smiled  not,  and  that  her  crescent  burned 
With  passionate  scarlet  such  as  I  abhor, 
And  that  the  arrow  in  her  bow  was  wrought 
With  gold  and  gems  and  feathered  gorgeously 
With  phoenix  feathers,  all  unlike  my  shafts 

16 


SELENE 

Of  crystal  pure  from  snowy  falcons  winged. 
But  suddenly  she  vanished,  for  my  veil, 
Whirled  upward  by  a  gush  of  air  so  sweet 
That   from   my   childhood's   island   seemed   it 

blowing, 

Thrice  wrapped  itself  about  my  crescent.     Ah, 
What   tremblings    seized   me   then,    even    me, 

Selene!— 

What  shudderings  dire,  as  of  a  little  maid, 
Mortal,  and  all  alone  in  haunted  dusk! 
What  premonitions  of  dismay,  what  dread, 
What  longing  for  the  starry  walls  of  heaven! 
Frantic,  with  aspen  hands  the  veil  I  rent, 
And  once  again  stood  radiant  and  Diana. 
Full  swift  dissolved  away  that  sparkling  gloom, 
As  of  the  emerald  twilight  under  sea, 
Wherethrough  the  living  phosphor  wreathes  and 

coils 

In  clouds  of  luminous  gold-dust.     Then,  indeed, 
There  was  revealed  to  me  a  sight  so  lovely, 
Not  Helios  drowsing  in  his  shadowy  boat, 
With  locks  aflare,  like  to  a  joyous  dream 
Upon  the  bosom  of  a  dream  of  death — 
Not  even  he,  quick  flashed  by  memory 
Upon  my  inner  sight,  seemed  half  so  fair. 
He  was  asleep — the  sleep  of  little  children, 


SELENE 

When  the  faint  parted  mouth  is  like  a  flower 
That  for  the  bee  makes  ready.    Yet,  by  Ares! 
No  softling  he.    The  mighty  muscles  twitched 
Beneath  the  supple  whiteness  of  his  arm, 
As  in  his  dreams,  hearing  my  arrows  click, 
He  for  his  own  great  bow  of  yew  did  reach. 
'Twas  taller  far  than  I,  and  I  am  tall, 
Even  for  a  goddess,  nurse.     In  verity 
He  looked  more  Phoebos  than  does  Phcebos'  self ; 
As  though  in  laughing  wise  he  could  have  con 
quered 

The  Python's  conqueror.     And  yet  so  calm 
His  earnest  brow,  his  dreaming  lips  so  gentle, 
Methought  he  was  the  very  God  of  Sleep, 
And  I  no  more  Selene,  but  a  Dream 
Sent  there  to  lull  him  into  sweeter  rest. 
Thus  marvelling  I  gazed,  until  at  last, 
As  when  in  heaven  itself  come  memories  faint 
Of  other  heavens  wherein  divinity 
Was  more  divine,  that  unknown  dreamer's  face 
Grew  suddenly  familiar.     I  had  known 
Those  curves  of  lid  and  lip  in  other  worlds, 
In    that    bright    former    heaven,    perhaps.     I 

stooped, 

Then  suddenly  felt — was  it  fear  I  felt? 
Tell  me,  dear  nurse. — My  heart  is  beating  now 

18 


SELENE 

At  the  mere  memory  of  how  it  beat. 

Nor  was  it  strange  that  I,  although  a  goddess, 

Should  feel  in  somewise  moved.     That  face,  O 

nurse, 

Was  more  like  to  mine  own  than  is  Apollo's — 
Ay,  line  for  line,  the  brow,  the  mouth,  the  chin. 
The  nostrils  proudly  stirred,  as  though  in  sleep 
He,  god-like,  breathed  the  incense  of  my  wonder. 
Then  was  I  shaken  as  by  more  than  fear; 
But  what  I  know  not,  only  this  I  know, 
Myself 's  true  twin  lay  there,  and  nevermore 
Can  Phcebos  be  to  Phcebe  all  in  all." 

"  O  miserable  maid!"  cried  Sterope 

"  Thou  knowest  not  what  thou  sayest.    Alas  the 

day! 
Behold   the    doom    thou    didst    foretell,    great 

Themis! 
Alas!    Alas!" 

Whereat  Sel6ne"  troubled: 
"  Why  wailest  thou  as  though  at  evil  news? 
What  doom  did  Themis  prophesy  ?    Speak,  nurse. 
Have  I  a  brother  greater  than  Apollo? 
Was  there  a  third  to  Zeus  and  Leto  born? 
Is  this  the  son  that  Zeus  so  long  hath  feared  ? 

19 


SELENE 

Is  this  the  stripling  god  whom  Destiny 

Hath  sent  to  hurl  Zeus  from  the  throne  of  heaven, 

Even  as  he  Kronos  hurled,  who  in  his  turn 

Dethroned  Uranos  ?     Speak.     Is  this  the  doom  ? 

Nay,  if  thou  art  afraid  to  tell  on  earth 

The  secrets  learned  in  heaven,  I  will  not  plague 

thee, 
For  though  all  heaven  itself  should  cry  him 

mortal, 
My  heart  assures  me  that  he  is  a  god." 

But  Sterope":  "Full  many  a  shepherd-lass 
Hath  said  the  same  of  many  a  shepherd-lad. 
Now  tell  me  one  thing  ere  thou  ask  me  more : 
For  what  wast  thou  so  troubled  when  at  first 
Thou  soughtst  me  here?     Thy  voice,  thy  sight, 

thy  glances 

Fearful,  as  of  a  nymph  by  Satyrs  chased, 
Thy  heart  a-beat  like  to  a  nightingale's 
What  time  its  mate  is  singing — what  of  these? 
Surely  thou  wast  not  troubled  to  this  measure 
Because  that  thou,  the  Goddess  of  the  Night, 
Hadst  looked  upon  a  possible  god  asleep!" 

Then  Artemis  the  proud  hung  down  her  head 
Before  the  tender  mockery  of  her  nurse, 

20 


SELENE 

As  she  a  little,  naughty  maid  had  been, 
And,  with  her  golden  hair  her  crescent  veiling, 
Thus  answered  in  the  small ,  hushed  voice  of  shame : 
"  Dear  nurse,  so  like — so  like  he  was  to  me, 
So  sure  I  was  of  being  his  sister,  nurse, 
That  I—" 

"On!    On!"  cried  Sterope— " 

"Alas! 

If  what  I  did  was  ill — I  meant  it  well — 
But  I  did  kiss — oh,  not  his  lips!  believe  me. 
I  kissed — even  as  Apollo  kisses  mine — 
His  forehead  and  his  beautiful,  broad  eyelids." 
As  when  a  wild  swan  from  her  plashy  nest 
Startled  doth  rise  on  whirring  wings  superb 
To  see  the  arrow-head  in  sunlight  gleaming, 
Yet  cannot  think  it  meant  to  bring  her  harm 
Until  within  her  breast  the  shaft  vibrates 
And  to  the  stars  her  desolate  cry  doth  waver, 
So  Sterope,  and  such  the  cry  she  uttered: 
"  Alas,  thou  bitter  fate!     Thou  fate  of  woman, 
Whether  or  goddesses  or  mortal  maids! 
Well  didst  thoxi  prophesy,  O  mighty  Themis. 
Now  do  I  question  if  thou  wroughtest  wisdom 
To  yield  great  Delphos  to  thy  pet  Apollo. 

21 


SELENE 

And  yet  I  could  not  think  the  direful  day 
Would  ever  be  'to-day,'  but  in  my  heart, 
Whene'er  I  thought  of  it,  I  said  'to-morrow.' 
O  me  accursed  beyond  all  other  beings, 
Since  helpless  I  must  look  a  second  time 
Upon  my  piteous  history,  enacted 
By  her  most  dear  to  me  of  heaven  or  earth!" 

Selene1,  vexed  to  hear  so  dire  lament 

O'er  what  to  her  seemed  rather  cause  for  gladness, 

Frowned,  and  her  delicate  lips,  grown  haughty, 

answered : 

"  An  empty  mind  it  shows  to  cry  aloud 
In  puny  terror  over  great  events 
Half  comprehended .     Speak  thy  meaning  clearly , 
Or  silence  keep."     Then  with  a  sudden  change 
Of  voice  and  mood:  "  Forgive  me,  dearest  nurse, 
But  vex  me  not  with  shrieks  and  grim  allusions 
To  fate  and  woe  and  doom.     Such  methods  leave 
To  lesser  minds.     Tell  thou  to  me  the  truth." 

"Poor,    human  -  hearted   goddess,"   sighed   her 

nurse, 
"  What  truth  wouldst  thou  that  I  should  tell  to 

thee? 
All  truths  of  divers  other  truths  are  wrought." 

22 


SELENE 
"This  first  of  all,  then:  Is  he  not  my  brother?" 

"Nor  kin  he  is  to  thee  in  flesh  or  spirit." 

"Then  sure  a  powerful  god,  of  heaven  grown 
weary?" 

"  Both   heaven   and   weariness    lie    yet   before 
him." 

" How  came  it  that  he  called  me  by  my  name?" 
"Such  things  doth  Mcera  know,  and  she  alone." 

"Why  leaped  my  heart  to  hear  my  name  thus 
spoken?" 

"Most  mortal  maids  are  there  more  wise  than 
Dian." 

"What  is  that  bitter  fate,  the  fate  of  woman?" 

"Thou    must    as   women    feel   to    know  their 
fate." 

"But  I,  a  goddess,  may  not  feel  as  mortals." 

23 


SELENE 
"  Not  even  the  gods  can  to  their  hearts  dictate." 

"Thy  words  do  chill  my  heart  with  sad  fore 
boding." 

"Seles's  heart  were  better  chill  than  warm." 

"Nurse,  nurse,  I  pray  thee  cease  that  droning 

chaunt, 

As  of  an  oracle  foretelling  death. 
Chide  me  as  I  thy  mortal  nursling  were, 
With  careless  tenderness  and  loving  spleen, 
But  freeze  me  not  with  cadenced  utterance 
Of  words  too  cautious  to  be  comforting. 
Tell  me  this  doom,  this  prophecy  of  Themis. 
If  sorrow  must  be  borne,  surely  'twere  better 
In  knowledge  than  in  ignorance  to  bear  it. 
And  yet,  O  Moera,  what  is  it  thou  knowest? 
Perchance,  even  now,  thou  weavest  a  darkling 

thread 

Into  the  silver  curtain  of  my  life; 
For  though  immortal,  mortal  dread  o'ercomes  me. 
Sterope"!     Save  me!     Warn  me  not  too  late. 
This  my  bright  hair,  which  like  a  golden  flame 
Illumes  the  dusky  cavern  of  the  night, 
For  very  fear  hangs  lustreless.     Ah!   Ah! 

24 


SELENE 

I  feel  the  icy  breath  of  Atropos 
Spread  crisping  through  its  fibres,  which  in  horror 
Stiffen  as  though  with  frost.     Was  it  my  doom 
That  Themis  prophesied?" 

"Yet  mayst  thou  'scape  it! 
Yet  mayst  thou  foil  stern  He're's  vengeful  ire!" 
Cried  Sterope,  grown  eager  on  a  sudden. 
"  The  time  hath  come  to  tell  thee  good  and  evil, 
That  thou  mayst   choose  between  them;  nor, 

indeed, 

Canst  thou  do  otherwise,  O  Artemis, 
Seeing  that  since  Chaos  even  the  greatest  gods 
Have  been  compelled  by  Mcera,  the  Resistless, 
To  say  or  soon  or  late  if  they  will  be 
Divinely  evil  or  divinely  good." 

But  Artemis,  the  proud,  from  flickering  lids 
Lowered  in  scorn,  not  meekness,  shot  a  glance 
Kin  to  the  little,  cruel,  self -sure  smile 
She  bends  upon  the  flying  deer,  and  thus 
Imperious  spake:  "I  choose  to  be  myself; 
Or  glad  or  sad,  Artemis  still  in  all. 
If  I  have  chosen  well  or  ill  I  know  not; 
But  could  I  change  my  destiny,  good  nurse, 
By  changing  aught  in  me  that  makes  me  Dian, 

25 


SELENE 

Merely  to  please  the  whim  of  other  gods, 
Were  that  my  fate  more  dark  than  night  with 
out  me, 
I  would  remain  myself." 

Then  Sterope, 

By  fear  and  admiration  sore  beset: 
"  No  more,O  mistress  great,  and  child  beloved — 
No  more,  until  thou'st  heard  my  bitter  story. 
Such  words  of  haughty  challenge  unto  Fate 
As  those  thou  speakest  are  winged  with  poison 
ous  feathers, 

The  which  grim  Moera  garners  up  and  uses 
To  speed  her  deathly  shafts  unto  the  hearts 
From  which  such  arrogant  thoughts  did  issue 
forth." 

"  My  fate  is  mine,  not  Mcera's,  though  she  weave 

it," 

Said  Cynthia,  wrathful  still.     "  Nor  do  I  fear 
To  bear  what  I  of  ill  was  born  to  bear. 
Far  rather  let  myself  fulfil  myself, 
Although  to  gain  full  being  I  lose  my  godhead, 
Than  live  in  tame  abeyance  unto  caution, 
Speaking  in  whispers,  lest  perchance  I  rouse 
Some  sleeping  vengeance." 

26 


SELENE 

"Rightly  didst  thou  say," 

Replied  her  sorrowful  nurse,  "that  many  maids 
Dwell  in  one  goddess,  for  in  no  respect 
Art  thou  the  faltering,  fluttering,  timorous  girl 
Who  sought  me  here  to-night.     Why  should  I 

speak  ? 

As  well  endeavour  to  direct  the  course 
Of  one  of  those  thy  shafts,  were't  on  its  way, 
As  counsel  thee  in  this  thy  present  mood. 
Yet  listen,  for  the  mightiest  may  learn 
From  the  misfortunes  of  the  humblest." 

"Speak," 

Said  Phcebe,  "and  remember  that  to  thee 
My  heart  is  ever  soft,  though  hard  my  mood." 

"Come,  then,  my  child,"  that  sad  one  answered, 

"  there 

Beside  me  stretch  thy  lovely  limbs  in  rest, 
For  none  too  short  this  piteous  history." 

Sel6ne  being  lain  along  the  grass, 
As  fair  as  foam  along  a  dark-green  wave, 
Her  nurse,  with  drooping  head  on  arm  dejected, 
In  this  wise  spake:  "  Full  often  hast  thou  heard, 
O  Artemis,  since  first  thy  mother  placed  thee, 
3  27 


SELENE 

A  little  maid,  between  my  childless  breasts, 
Of  those  so  dreadful  woes  wherewith  great  H6re 
Did  torture  her  for  having  won  that  love 
Which   she,    though   Queen   of   Heaven,  could 

never  win 
From  Heaven's  King.  Thou  knowest  these  things 

of  old, 

And  how  wise  Themis,  she  who  first  was  Queen 
Of  Zeus  and  Heaven,  did  feed  both  thee  and 

Phoebos 

Upon  that  sacred  food  whereby  divinity 
Remains  divine ;  but  what  I  now  relate 
Is  not  to  any  known  in  heaven  or  earth 
Save  to  thy  mother  Leto,  me,  who  tell  thee, 
And  Themis,  her  from  whom  we  first  did  hear  it. 
Thus  it  befell:  Thy  mother  on  the  day 
That  Themis  to  Olympos  did  return, 
Talked  long  with  her  of  what  the  future  held 
For    ye,    her    heaven  -  sprung    children.     Now 

'twas  clear, 

So  Leto  oft  assured  me,  that  the  goddess, 
From  the  beginning,  loved  thy  brother  more 
Than  thee  she  loved,  he  being  male,  and  Themis 
More  god  than  goddess  as  to  mental  sex. 
For  him  she  prophesied  but  good;  for  thee, 
Possible  evil,  which,  however,  thou, 

28 


SELENE 

None  other,  mightst  avert  if  warned  in  season 
By  one  upon  whose  truth  thou  couldst  rely. 
I  will  repeat  the  baleful  oracle, 
The  last  she  spake  from  Delphos.     Thus  it  ran : 
'  If  that  she  be  the  enemy  of  Love, 
Sorrow  shall  fall  on  her — ay,  mortal  grief. 
If  Love  become  her  enemy,  more  sure 
The  fatal  pain.     If  friend  she  be  to  Love, 
Still  woe  on  woe.     If  Love  her  friend  become, 
Woe,  ever  woe.     Nor  enmity  nor  friendship 
Should  there  exist  'twixt  Aphrodite's  son 
And  Leto's  daughter,  if  she  would  maintain 
An  immortality  of  delicate  bliss, 
Of  rapture  subtle  and  of  perfect  beauty.' 
Thus  Themis;  nor  for  all  her  bitter  tears 
And  pleadings  desperate  could  thy  mother  dear 
Win  from  her  aught  of  more  explicit  nature. 
But  I,  who  am  in  such  lore  deeper  skilled 
Than  yet  thou  dreamest,  through  many  a  day 

and  night, 
Through   many   a   winter    dark   and    summer 

naming, 

Did  pauseless  search  the  solemn  universe, 
Till  somewhat  I  had  solved  the  mystery 
Of  those  portentous  words,  so  doubly  veiled 
In  craft  of  priestess  and  of  woman-god. 

39 


SELENE 

And  thus  I  learned  that  Here1,  many-minded 
And  crafty  in  proportion  to  her  power, 
Had  for  thy  ruin  a  subtle  scheme  devised 
To  lure  thee  from  thy  joyous  chastity 
Into  the  sombre  labyrinth  of  passion, 
Where  sorrow  doth  more  sorrowful  become, 
Sweet  things  more  seeming  sweet,  but  bitterer, 
Beauty  indeed  more  beautiful,  yet  shorn 
Of  all  its  consolation,  and  the  sound 
Of  lovely  music,  erstwhile  so  enchanting, 
An  anguish  to  the  soul,  nor  less  an  anguish 
For  being  desired;  so  terrible  is  Love 
That  he  can  force  the  captive  spirit  to  yearn 
For  what  aforetime  it  abhorred,  to  loathe 
What  once,  above  all  else,  it  did  desire." 

"And  didst  thou  learn  the  means  whereby  she 

purposed 

To  work  my  woe?"  asked  Phoebe^  quiet-voiced, 
As  are  the  strong  when  wroth  to  danger. 

"Ay, 

It  was  for  that  I  spake,"  said  Sterope". 
"  I  learned,  O  Artemis,  that  to  thy  doom 
Thou  wouldst  be  drawn  by  love  of  one,  a  mortal, 
Whom  thou  wouldst  find  fast-sleeping  in  a  cave 

30 


SELENE 

Upon  Mount  Latmos.     Judge,  I  pray  thee,  now, 
If  empty  fear  I  showed,  or  causeless  grief, 
When  I  bewailed  what  thou  to-night  didst  tell 
me?" 

But  often  they  who  look  for  sighs  to  rend 
The  breasts  of  mighty  ones  by  Fate  o'erta'en 
Are   sore   amazed  when   from   those  lips,  un- 

blanching, 

The  dauntless  laughter  rings.     So  Sterope", 
When  Phoebe",  to  her  fullest  splendour  leaping, 
Laughed,  and  a  second  time  laughed  vengefully, 
And  yet  a  third  time  laughed  with  scorn  superb. 
"Thinkest   thou,"  she   said,  "that   Zeus -born 

Artemis 

Feareth  the  loveless  wife  of  Zeus?     That  I, 
Whom  Love  may  not  approach  unless  I  bid  him, 
Have  aught  to  fear  from  Love  ?     As  for  thy  tale, 
Poor  nurse,  they  have  deceived  thee.     Surely  I, 
Who  am  a  goddess,  could  not  for  a  god 
Mistake  a  mortal  man,  though  he  were  fairer 
Than  Phrygian  Ganymede." 

"O  hapless  Phceb6, 

Be  warned,  be  warned  in  time,  as  thou  desiredst." 
Thus  Sterop6,  with  love  and  terror  desperate; 


SELENE 

"Thy  very  fearlessness  doth  make  me  fearful. 
So  was  it  that  I  felt  and  thought  and  spake 
Ere  awful  Love  did  work  my  utter  ruin." 

Then  Phoebe",  startled:  "What  didst  say,  good 

nurse  ? 
Thy  ruin  ?     What  ruin  ?     Thou'rt  dreaming,  art 

thou  not? — 
What  ruin?" 

But  Sterope",  with  smile  majestic 

Of  calm  despair  long  known,  moved  back  a 
pace 

And  said :  "  This  shame  also  hath  Fate  appointed ; 

This  hour,  too,  must  I  pass  and  live  thereafter. 

Knowest  thou  me  who  I  am,  O  Queen  of  Chaste- 
ness?" 

"Surely,  sweet  nurse,  I  know  thee,"  said  the 

goddess. 
"Alas!  doth  madness  seize  thee?" 

"  Nay,  great  Dian, 
Thou  knowest  my  name,  my  face,  my  voice,  my 

love, 

But  me  thou  dost  not  know." 

32 


SELENE 

"Who  art  thou,  then?" 

"  I  am  that  hapless  one  who  out  of  heaven, 
The  home  of  Love,  by  Love  himself  was  hurled, 
Because    I   scorned   his    power,   as    thou  dost 

scorn  it. 

A  broken  string  I  am  upon  the  lyre 
Celestial,  a  lovely  song  unfinished, 
A  fallen  star.     Alas,  what  wilt  thou  say? 
I  am  that  seventh  Pleiad  who  was  lost, 
Who  from  her  silver  footstool  near  thy  throne 
Was  cast  to  earth,  because  like  thee,  O  Phoebe, 
She  did  defy  great  Aphrodite's  son." 

"Art  thou  that  Sterop6?" 

"Thou  knowest  it  now." 
"Art  thou  in  truth  the  vanished  Pleiad?" 

"Ay, 
Truth  have  I  told  thee,  Artemis — no  fable." 

"  But  she,  that  luckless  one,  did  love  a  mortal?" 

"And  I  a  mortal  loved  and  love,  Sel6ne\" 

33 


SELENE 

"  But  Sterop£  the  Pleiad,  how  may  I, 
Goddess  of  Chastity,  her  error  name? 
She  more  than  loved — she  let  herself  be  loved — 
Ay,  as  a  bride  she  gave  herself  to  him — 
That  mortal  who  destroyed  her." 

"Truth  thou  speakest — 
All  this  I  did— I,  Sterope  the  Pleiad." 

Then  Artemis,  by  sovereign  instinct  urged, 
Caught   up   her   bow,    and   with    keen   fingers 

searched 

Her  empty  quiver,  while  that  Sterope' 
Stood  smiling  that  sad  smile  of  one  who  knows 
How  little  doth  a  breaking  heart  avail 
In  this  sad  world  where  hearts  break  every  day, 
Nor  by  the  careless  gods  are  more  regarded 
Than  is  a  shattered  dove's  egg,  though  it  be 
The  sole  one  in  the  nest.     But  suddenly, 
As  when  a  cloud  makes  tender  the  bright  moon, 
Sorrow  o'ercame  her,  and  familiar  love 
And  pity  infinite ;  whereat  she  turned, 
Casting  her  fateful  bow  upon  the  ground, 
And  to  her  bosom  drew  that  lovely  star, 
More  fair,  though  fallen,  than  many  a  throned 

sphere — 

34 


SELENE 

"  Whate'er  thou  didst  thou  didst  ere   I   was 
born." 

Thus  Phoebe",  in  divinity  still  young, 

And  not  as  yet  the  enemy  of  Love, 

Though  not  his  friend:  "  Sweet,  hapless  Sterope" ! 

Dark,   dark    the    veil    that    Eros    must    have 

spread 

Before  thine  eyes,  to  make  thee  risk  thy  place 
In  that  divinest  choir  for  mortal  love. 
Tell  me,  poor,  sorrowful  one,  how  did  it  chance 
That  thou  unto  a  mortal  gavest  thy  love?" 

"  Ah,  Phoeb6,  mortal  seemed  he  not  to  me. 
A  god  I  thought  him,  even  as  thou  thinkest 
Endymion — " 

"  '  Endymion?'     Is  it  his  name? 
A  fairer  name,  at  least,  no  god  doth  own. 
Divine  his  name,  though  he  be  mortal,  nurse." 

"And  mortal  thy  self-will,  though  thou'rt  a 

goddess. 

Ah  me,  dear  child !     This  did  thy  mother  fear, 
By  Themis  warned.     For  this  did  she  beseech 

me — 

35 


SELENE 

Even  me,  unfortunate  and  fallen,  fallen 
Lower  than  star  e'er  fell — to  be  thy  nurse, 
That  with  the  story  of  my  wretched  fate 
I  might  from  H£r6's  malice  succour  thee. 
Alas!  Selene1,  wilt  thou  not  be  warned? 
Think  of  my  fate  —  nay,  more,  think  of  thy 

mother's. 

If  she,  for  love  of  Zeus,  the  mightiest  god, 
Such  woe  endured,  how  mayst  thou  'scape  dis 
aster 

If  thou  unto  a  mortal  give  thy  love? 
Ay,  great  the  error  thou  hast  wrought  already, 
Kissing  the  brow  and  eyelids  of  this  stranger ; 
For  nimble-fingered  Slander  of  one  kiss 
Can  make  a  hundred,  and  to  spouseless  maids 
Create  unwished-for  children  of  a  shadow. 
Behold  the  one  respect  wherein  divinity 
Less  freedom  hath  than  bound  mortality. 
Unto  the  least  its  every  act  lies  bare. 
Mistress  thou  art  of  all  but  privacy — 
The  great  can  have  no  secrets.     Soon  or  late 
Mankind  must  know  the  inner  life  of  gods. 
Be  warned.     Be  warned,  O  thou  beloved  one! 
Thou  art  the  child  of  Zeus,  but  Zeus  himself 
Could  not  the  Delphian  Oracle  defy 
And  be  as  much  a  god  as  he  hath  been." 

36 


SELENE 

Whereat  the  goddess,  serious,  bent  her  brows, 
And  her  cool,  maiden  majesty  resumed: 
"  Woful,  indeed,  must  Love  have  been  to  thee, 
That  thou  of  Love  dost  speak  so  wofully. 
Tell  me,  didst  thou  e'er  meet  him  face  to  face  ?" 

"Nay,  few  in  heaven  or  earth,"  said  Sterope, 
"  Have  looked  on  Love.  Invisible  he  comes, 
With  radiance  mystic,  oftener  felt  than  seen." 

"  Mystic  thy  words,  good  nurse,  but  lo!  I  speak 
Clearly  that  thou  mayst  clearly  comprehend. 
I,  Artemis,  to-night  will  look  on  Love 
With   eyes   unwavering    and    with    heart    un- 
scorched." 

Whereat  poor  Sterope",  her  hands  uplifting, 

No  more  with  Dian  pleaded,  but  to  Zeus 

Her   piteous   prayer   did   make:     "Alas!   thou 

great  one, 

Wilt  thou  thy  child  and  Leto's  thus  abandon 
To  H6r6's  wrath?     O  Zeus,  father  of  all  things, 
Be  not  to  thine  own  daughter  less  than  father!" 

"And  shall  these  eyes,   which  daily  gaze  on 
Phcebos, 

37 


SELENE 

Fear  to  behold  the  glory  of  a  lesser, 
Not  even  his  son?" 

"Thou  knowest  not  what  thou  speakest. — 
None  is  more  great  than  Love,  not  even  Mcera. 
His  glory  could  make  pale  Apollo's  glory, 
As  doth  Apollo's  thine." 

"  O  impious  one!" 

Cried  Phoebe",  at  this  saying  wroth  again. 
"  Dost  thou  not  fear  Apollo's  mighty  ire, 
That  of  his  glory  thus  thou  falsely  pratest? 
Even  Zeus,  in  lightning  clad,  is  not  more  glo 
rious 
Than  is  Apollo  when  in  fullest  splendour." 

"Alas!"  replied  her  nurse,  "whom  Love  hath 

scourged 

Fears  not  the  wrath  of  any  other  god, 
For  of  despair  and  pain  the  worst  is  known. 
But  Eros  can  make  bright  the  halls  of  Hades, 
Which  thing  nor   Zeus   nor   Phcebos   can   ac 
complish." 

"Thinkest  thou  that  I,  Sel6n6,  child  of  Zeus 
And  Phcebos'  sister,  will  such  tales  believe 

38 


SELENE 

On  hearsay?    No!    This  very  night  I  purpose 

To  look  on  Eros  in  full  panoply, 

As  when  before  my  father  Zeus  he  fares." 

"O  arrogant  goddess!"  then  cried  Sterope"; 
"  In  this  thy  foolish  act  all  men  will  see 
That  thou  by  birth  art  only  half  divine. 
No  god  so  brave  but  that  he  feareth  Love; 
Nor  do  I  dread  thy  wrath,  who  on  my  breast 
Cradled  thy  haughty  head,  who  taught  thy  lips 
The  name  of  Zeus  to  murmur,  who,  indeed, 
Showed  thee  to  aim  thy  shafts  unerringly. 
Send  one  to  search  my  bosom;  'twill  but  find 
A  heart  more  true  to  thee  than  is  thine  own 
When  it  doth  urge  thee  onward  to  such  deeds." 

But  Phoebe,  unappeased:  "Well  is  it  for  thee, 
Thee  ready  with  advice  unto  thy  betters, 
Thee  crazed  with  exile  from  thy  native  heaven, 
Thee  star  that  like  a  glowworm  now  must  creep 
Upon  the  dusky  bosom  of  the  earth, 
Who  once  wert  brightest  of  that  brightest  Seven — 
Well  is  it  for  thee  that  thou  my  love  didst  win 
Ere  rousing  thus  my  wrath.     As  for  thy  counsel, 
Thou  hast  but  hastened  what  thou  wouldst  pre 
vent; 

39 


SELENE 

For  ere  the  sigh  which  swells  thy  timorous  breast 
Can  mingle  with  the  night,  I,  Artemis, 
Will  be  upon  my  way  to  summon  him, 
This  so  tremendous  god  from  high  Olympos, 
That,  radiance  unto  radiance,  we  may  talk 
Of  Themis  and  her  mighty  prophecy." 

Thus  Artemis,  defiant  of  great  Love, 

Who,  on  Olympos  hearing  her,  did  smile 

A  sweet,  frore  smile,  unlike  what  men  imagine 

The  lips  of  Love  to  wear ,  then  spreaded  slow 

The  tranquil  splendour  of  his  golden  wings, 

And  in  relaxed  loveliness  stood  leaning 

Upon  the  starry  battlements  of  heaven 

Till  Phoebe's  words  should  summon  him  to  earth. 


II 


Meanwhile  Endymion,  smiling  in  his  sleep, 
Dreamed  for  himself  another  destiny, 
In  all  unlike  the  one  that  drew  anear 
On  silver-sandalled  feet ;  for  thus  the  gods 
Tenderly  mock  the  ignorance  of  man, 
Who  often,  while  the  fair,  gold  fruit  of  joy 
So  near  him  hangs  that  on  his  eager  brow 

40 


SELENE 

He  feels  the  mystic  stirring  of  its  leaves, 
Within  the  darksome  earth  will  delve  and  toil, 
Seeking  that  other  gold,  whose  mightiest  bulk 
Is  not  so  precious  as  one  little  seed 
Of  that  which  hangs  above  him. 

Yea,  he  dreamed, 

This  Carian  prince  (while  love  the  loveliest 
Toward  h'm,  careless  both  of  love  and  fate, 
Rushed  like  a  thought  to  meet  a  poet's  wish). 
Endymion  dreamed  of  freedom  and  a  life 
Wherein  no  more,  oh,  nevermore,  should  love 
Be  even  so  much  as  named.     For  he  had  known 
The  sapping,  slow,  brain-sucking  misery 
That  falls  upon  the  passionate  whom  error 
Unto  the  passionless  hath  bound.     Full  well, 
Ah,  bitter  well,  he  knew  the  dregs  that  lie 
Within  the  cup  of  tepid  tenderness: 
The  faint,  dread  taste  of  kisses  laid  on  lips 
That  crave  a  love  they  never  may  inspire; 
The  gall  of  words  that  kindness  prompts  and  truth 
Doth  force  again  into  the  struggling  throat; 
The  weary  ache  of  eyes  unsatisfied 
That  in  imagination  shape  anew 
The  face  wherewith  they  long  to  be  enamoured ; 
The  silences  that  part  what  they  should  weld, 

41 


SELENE 

As  when  a  breeze  doth  scatter  north  and  south 
The  petals  of  the  flower  it  would  caress, 
Nor  bends  the  rose  upon  the  rose  beneath; 
The  wingless  hours  that  o'er  the  waste  of  time, 
Like  slow,  grey  serpents  o'er  a  desert  grey, 
Creep  toward  the  greyness  of  a  same  to-morrow ; 
The  jests  which  summon  tears,  the  earnest  words 
Which  call  forth  merriment;  the  joy  of  one 
Which  to  the  other  is  a  cause  for  grief, 
The  bondage  which  to  one  seems  liberty, 
The  freedom  which  the  other  counts  as  blame; 
The  endless  striving  to  unmake  ourselves 
Because  one  loves  us  for  the  thing  we  are  not 
Nor  ever  shall  be — effort  barren,  senseless, 
Resulting  in  the  death,  not  of  our  faults, 
But  of  the  life  within  us,  till  we  grow 
Into  a  dull,  meek,  apathetic  being, 
Incapable  of  love  or  hate  or  joy, 
Incapable  of  mourning  overmuch 
Our  own  incapability.     These,  these 
The  dregs  that  lie  within  that  oft-praised  cup, 
And  these  Endymion  so  long  had  drained 
That  life's  keen  nectar  seemed  to  him  a  draught 
As  tasteless  as  the  wine  we  drink  in  dreams. 
But  there  had  come  a  day,  that  wondrous  day 
Which  in  all  lives  is  consecrate  to  Mcera — 

42 


SELENE 

The  day  of  crisis,  when  we  nevermore 

May  be  as  we  have  been  or  are ;  the  day 

On  which,  the  past  being  sealed,   the  future 

opened, 

A  man  re-entereth  the  womb  of  time, 
And  turns  once  more,  new-born,  to  face  his  fate. 

Who  knoweth  not  that  ecstasy  of  the  soul 
Which  hath  been   bound    and   once   again   is 

free, 

Knoweth  not  the  keenest  joy  that  visits  man. 
To  worship  Freedom  as  she  should  be  worshipped, 
One  must  have  been  a  slave.     Thus,  all  exultant, 
Endymion  from  the  palace  gates  fared  forth, 
Careless  what  way  he  followed,  since  all  ways 
Now  led  to  liberty.     And  once  again 
Nature  unveiled  for  him  her  awful  beauty, 
And  her  deep,  voiceless  message  to  his  heart 
Declared  its  manifold  meaning  as  of  yore, 
In  that  delirious  time  of  dreaming  boyhood, 
Or  yet  mistaken  vows  had  numbed  his  soul 
As  'twere  with  fetters  wrought  of  ice  and  iron 
By  some  dark  spell.     Yea,  once  again  the  earth 
Drew  him  with  sheer  delight  of  loveliness, 
Until  the  God  that  sleeps  in  all  great  natures 
Awoke  and  cried  him  to  himself  immortal. 
4  43 


SELENE 

Once  more  the  mountains  claimed  him,  and 

the  bay, 

His  own  fair  bay  of  Latmos,  sang  to  him 
With  voice  as  of  a  myriad  sirens:  "Come, 
Come,  come  Endymion!     No  woman's  breast 
So  lovely  as  my  sun-warmed  waves!     No  brow 
Of  woman  whiter  than  my  moonlit  foam! 
Nor  in  the  arms  of  woman  shalt  thou  find 
Such  free  delight  as  in  my  cool  embrace!" 

The  starlight  thrilled  him  like  a  rain  of  fire ; 
The  Dawn  her  magic  web  of  delicate  flame 
Cast  over  him,  till,  as  of  old,  he  felt 
Her  sweet  enchantment  through  his  veins  dis 
solve. 

The  Wind,  in  language  whose  all-stirring  fierce 
ness 

He  had  forgot  in  days  of  apathy, 
Now  to  his  spirit  shouted  hymns  of  peril 
Dearer  than  love's  most  lulling  melodies. 
All  things  in  earth  and  air,  by  that  vast 

law 

Which  bindeth  like  to  like,  became  as  one 
With  his  free  spirit,  and  as  comrades  dear, 
Playmates  divine,  most  holy  influences — 
Which    from    the    tangled    skein    of   self   un 
wound 

44 


SELENE 

The  golden  thread  of  spiritual  ecstasy — 

He  hailed  them,  and  adored  them,    and  was 

happy. 

But  most  of  all,  there  grew  on  him  a  passion, 
Vague,  tremulous,  yet  intense,  as  of  a  priest 
Who  hath  created  for  his  sole  adoring 
Some  fair  religion  all  too  exquisite 
To  share  with  others — there  did  well  in  him 
A  silent  passion  for  the  far,  fair  moon. 
In  every  varying  phase  he  worshipped  her: 
Or  splendid,  as  in  robes  of  frozen  flame; 
Or  softly  luminous,  like  a  pearl  reflecting 
The  damask  of  the  rose  wherein  it  lies; 
Or  veiled  in  windy  mist,  or  in  a  stole 
Of  iridescent  loveliness;  or  lonely 
Save  for  her  one  dear  star  that  never  leaves  her; 
Or  by  her  train  of  golden  nymphs  attended: 
In  all  her  moods  he  found  her  all  divine, 
Perfect;  by  night  a  glory,  and  by  day — 
When  like  a  silver  ghost  she  lay  asleep 
Upon  the  violet  mantle  of  the  Sun — 
Fair  as  a  dream  of  some  beloved  face. 

Thus  worshipping,  he  slept,  and  in  his  sleep, 
Impelled  by  adoration,  seemed  to  rise 
And  mount  the  windy  stairway  of  the  stars. 

45 


SELENE 


III 


But  now  the  wilful  goddess,  all  elate 
At  thought  of  daring  whom  all  others  feared, 
Outsped  her  smoking  hounds,  and,  like  a  gleam 
That  on  the  arrowy  foam  of  cataracts 
Down  flashes  to  the  valley,  from  the  crest 
Of  Latmos  darted  to  the  craggy  shore. 
The  tide  was  at  its  full,  and  round  her  feet 
Hissed  the  soft  overflow  of  fleecy  pools 
Whereon  the  spray  dissolved — nor  green  nor  blue 
Nor  violet  the  ever-varying  sea, 
But  tinct  with  all,  as  were  Sele"n6's  eyes, 
And  glossed  with  pearly  gold  like  to  her  tresses. 
Swift  ran  the  dappled  waves  with  hollow  swirl 
And  sluicy,  crashing  din  of  backward  surge 
Among  the  pebbles,  and  the  desolate  strand 
One  long-drawn,  fluctuant,  sobbing  roar  gave 

forth 

Like  to  the  wail  by  Polyphemos  uttered 
When  sea-bright  Galatea  came  not  back. 
Near  by,  a  rock  of  iron-purple  hue, 
Rugged,  immense,  shaped  like  a  galley's  prow, 
From  out  the  silverish  gurge  its  beak  upreared, 
Parting  the  spray,  that  as  it  backward  fell 

46 


SELENE 

Shattered  the  surface  of  the  sleek,  green  waves 
Till  they  seemed  grey  with  hail.      Upon  this 

crag 

Selene"  sprang,  and,  her  right  arm  uplifting, 
The  mighty  god  of  love  did  thus  invoke : 

"Eros!    Where'er  thou  art,  whatever  doing: 
Strollest  thou  on  bright  Olympos,  smooth  of  wing 
As  are  thy  mother's  doves  what  time  she  sleepeth ; 
Or  on  the  air  of  earth  dost  thou  unfurl 
Thy  glowing  plumes,  or  through   the  halls  of 

Death 

On  stilly  pinions  floatest,  like  a  cloud 
That  with  the  sunset  splendour  yet  transfused 
Glimmers  beneath  the  murky  dome  of  night; 
Smilest  thou  beside  a  prince's  ivory  couch, 
Or  near  a  bed  of  pine-boughs,  sweet  with  dew, 
Dost  watch  the  artless  toying  of  some  wood- 
nymph 

Who,  in  her  shepherd's  sunburnt  arms  enlaced, 
Shines  silver-white  as  foam  through  sea-weed 

brown ; 

Or  wroth,  or  pleased,  or  sad  for  very  gladness, 
I  do  invoke  thee  straightway  to  descend 
In  full  magnificence,  as  doth  befit 
A  deity  on  deity  attendant." 

47 


SELENE 

She  ceased,  and  for  an  instant  brief  as  that 
Wherein  the  towered  wave  its  crest  suspends 
Ere  plunging  in  the  glaucous  scoop  below, 
No  sign  of  godhead  fired  the  placid  sky; 
Then  suddenly  beamed  forth  a  slender  brilliance 
As  'twere  a  sunray  through  the  hair  of  Night, 
Lighting  her  dusky  brow;  and  even  Dian, 
The  ever-daring,  ever-unappalled, 
Felt  her  proud  heart  wince  in  her  dauntless 

breast 

At  this  so  prompt  response  unto  her  prayer, 
Defiant  of  the  Delphian  Oracle, 
Never,  by  gods  or  men,  till  now  defied. 
Next  there  did  shine,  what  unto  mortal  eyes 
Had   seemed  a   star-white   swan,   with  gilded 

pinions, 

But  which  Sele"n6  saw  to  be  a  boat 
Of  thinnest  ivory,  winged  with  golden  wings, 
Wherein  the  god  stood  upright,  veiled  soft 
In  the  warm  aura  of  his  loveliness. 
Deep  and  yet  delicate  the  orange  haze 
Shed  from  his  scattered  hair.     His  own  bright 

wings 

Were  lightly  shut,  nor  did  he  guide  his  boat 
Aerial,  of  grain  so  fragile  fair 
That  with  his  radiance  from  within  it  glowed 

48 


SELENE 

Like  to  an  alabaster  vase  wherethrough 
A  rose-gold  flame  doth  glimmer.     Slope  it  came, 
As  though  by  subtle  instinct  thus  impelled, 
Straight  to  the  rock  whereon  was  poised  Diana, 
Its  luminous  keel  shearing  the  curdled  clouds 
That  ever  froth  and  melt  like  noiseless  foam 
Upon  the  silent  ocean  of  the  air; 
Its  vans  crisp  rustling,  even  as  autumn  leaves, 
Made  gold  by  frost,  on  frosty  breezes  rustle ; 
Its  wreaths  of  small,  red  roses  sweeping  out 
Against  the  glittering  pallor  of  the  waves, 
While  ever  softly  showered  the  petals  fine, 
In  crimson  spray  about  the  gleaming  prow. 

As  when  upon  a  sultry  day  in  June 

The  clouds,  like  smouldering  mounds  of  silver 

fire 

Along  the  incandescent  azure  float, 
And  o'er  the  burnished,  many-coloured  deep 
(Of  iridescence  darkly  beautiful 
As  are  the  necks  of  black  Dodonian  doves 
Glinting  in  sunlight) ,  send  their  wavering  sheen, 
Milk-fair  and  temperate  like  to  mid-day  moons, 
Even  so  the  bark  of  Eros  poured  its  lustre 
Along  the  furrows  of  the  darkling  sea, 
While  from  its  scintillant  vans  the  rayed  blaze 

49 


SELENE 

Lighted  the  shallows,  till  that  one  might  note 
The  copper-tinted  sea-weed  undulate 
Beneath  the  lucent  beryl,  like  to  tresses 
Of  sleeping  Nereids,  and  the  pebbles  smooth, 
O'erspread  with  golden  network,  tremulous, 
Which,  up-reflecting,  meshed  the  bark  itself 
And  all  the  lustrous  body  of  the  god 
As  though  in  flickering  skeins  of  woven  fire. 
A  crown  of  jonquils  intertwined  with  stars 
Rested  above  his  dark  and  tender  brows, 
Wherein  was  gathered  all  the  mystic  gloom 
That  haunts  the  far,  faint  level  of  the  sea. 
Yearning  his  eyes,  as  of  a  soul  bereft 
Beyond  what  unto  mortals  or  immortals 
Is  of  bereavement  known,  yet  on  his  lips 
That  listless  smile,  more  deadly  sweet  and  cold 
Than  frozen  honey  culled  from  poisonous  flowers, 
Still  palely  wavered.     From  one  indolent  hand 
There  hung  a  torch  of  mother-pearl,  whose  flames, 
Lilac  and  topaz-white  and  violet  azure, 
Clustered  in  petal-wise  about  the  centre, 
Till  like  a  clear-blue  lotus-flower  they  seemed; 
Nor  robe  nor  mantle  wore  he,  being  clad 
In  his  own  splendour  as  in  golden  gauze, 
Wherethrough  his  languid  limbs  gleamed  silverly, 
Veiled  yet  hidden  not.     Dian,  beholding, 


SELENE 

Felt  awe  as  of  a  mortal  when  in  sleep 
A  dream  in  likeness  of  a  god  approaches, 
And  then  grew  wroth  to  feel  herself  inspired 
By  Love  with  reverence.    He,  though  well  aware 
In  what  proud  humour  she  awaited  him, 
Smiled  ever,  calm  as  Death's  own  thoughts  of 

death ; 

And,  while  the  bark  sank  lower,  spread  his  wings 
Empyreal,  which  upbore  him  as  a  star 
Is  buoyed  upon  a  wreath  of  gorgeous  mist 
What  time  the  sun  burns  saffron  in  the  west, 
And  thus,  with  naked  beauty  richlier  clad 
Than  Zeus  himself  when  in  his  robes  of  state 
He  takes  the  throne  of  heaven  and  wields  its 

thunder, 

Unto  the  angry  goddess  drew  anear. 
Then  unto  him  in  scornfulwise  she  spake, 
Although  her  heart  was  trembling:   "Art  thou 

Eros, 

Who  in  this  guise  my  invocation  answerest? 
And  knowest  thou  not,  O  son  of  Aphrodite", 
That  he  who  Phoebe  angers  hath  to  deal 
With  Phcebos  also  ?     I  did  summon  thee 
To  come  before  me  in  full  panoply 
As  when  before  my  father  Zeus  thou  farest, 
And  thou  dost  venture  in  my  presence  thus. 


SELENE 

A  godlike  deed,  in  truth,  and  one  by  gods 
Long,  long  to  be  remembered!" 

Whereon  Love, 

In  that  soft  voice  which  masters  even  Death, 
Thus  gently  answered:  "Be  not  wroth,  Sele"n6; 
Even  thus  before  thy  ,ather  Zeus  I  fare, 
Nor  have  I  fuller  panoply  than  this, 
For  Love  unarmed  is  then  most  fully  armed. 
Behold  me  even  as  thou  didst  summon  me, 
And  deign  to  tell  me  wherefore  I  am  summoned." 

"Nathless  right  well  thou  knowest  it  ere  I  tell 

thee." 

Thus  Artemis,  still  haughty  as  to  brow, 
Though  in  her  heart  she  wondered  that  so  soon 
Her  mighty  wrath  should  falter,  little  deeming 
That  wrath  may  not  abide  when  love  hath  spoken. 
"There  are  who  call  thee  mightiest  in  Olympos. 
If  this  be  truth,  why  dost  thou  question  me?" 

Then  Love,  with  subtle  mirth  about  his  eyelids, 
While  grave  remained  his  eyes:  "O  thou  most 

lovely 

Yet  most  unloving  one,  what  cause  have  I 
To  search  the  lives  to  Anteros  dedicate? 

52 


SELENE 

Enough  of  care  is  mine,  although  a  god, 
Guiding  the  ways  of  those  who  worship  me; 
Nor  may  I  long  remain  with  thee,  who  art, 
Even  more  than  Anteros,  mine  enemy." 

"Nay,  not  thine  enemy!"  cried  eager  Dian, 
"  Nor  friend  nor  foe  of  thine,  O  Eros!    Hear, 
If  so  be  thou  hast  not  already  heard, 
That  prophecy,  the  last  by  Themis  spoken." 
Whereon  she  told  him  all  the  piteous  tale 
By  Sterope"  that  night  to  her  confided. 
And,  in  conclusion:  "Thou  art  now  aware 
For  what  I  did  invoke  thee,  mighty  son 
Of  golden  Aphrodite";  let  us  swear, 
As  though  in  presence  of  the  assembled  gods, 
That  from  this  hour  Eros  and  Artemis 
Will  be  nor  friends  nor  enemies." 

But  Eros, 

Gentle  alike  in  difference  and  agreement, 
As  are  the  truly  great,  being  sure  of  greatness, 
Made  a  slow  sideward  motion  of  his  head, 
Uplit  by  many  a  curl  more  yellow  bright 
Than  daffodils  in  windy  sunlight  nodding, 
And  thus  replied:  "That  may  not  be,  O  god 
dess, 

S3 


SELENE 

For  who  hath  once  beheld  me,  from  that  hour 
Becomes  my  enemy  or  else  my  friend." 

"Nay,  Eros,  I  am  neither,  nor  would  be  so." 
"Thou  dost  not  tell  a  wilful  falsehood,  Dian." 
"  How!     Meanest  thou  that  I  have  lied  to  thee ?" 
"Ask  of  thy  heart  if  it  doth  feel  indifference." 
"If  I  speak  falsely,  then  my  heart  will,  too." 
1 '  Swear  by  thy  silver  bow  that  thou  dost  hate  me. ' ' 

"  I  hate  thee  not,  O  son  of  Aphrodite", 

Nor  would  I  have  thy  hatred.     Better  even 

Thy  friendship  than  thine  enmity." 

"Yet,  Dian, 
Those  whom  I  dearliest  love  I  wound  the  sorest." 

Then  loud  laughed  Artemis  her  mocking  laugh, 
While  her  wide  brow  grew  dark  as  moonless  caves 
Wherethrough    the    clangorous    tide   thunders 
unseen, 

54 


SELENE 

And  thus  to  that  forbearing  one  she  spake: 
"Nay,  thou  presumptuous  godling,  well  thou 

knowest 
That   'gainst  thy  pretty  shafts  my  breast  is 

proof. 

I  fear  thee  not,  O  Love — I  fear  thee  not. 
What !    Dost  thou  take  me  for  another  Pleiad  ? — 
A  trembling  star  ?    I,  who  am  Queen  of  Night  ? — 
Empress  of  Chastity  ?     Thou  pratest  to  me — 
Me,  Artemis! — of  what  thy  darts  can  do? 
O  little  god,  how  wouldst  thou  fare  if  I 
One  of  my  deathly  arrows  loosed  at  thee? 
Thou  baby  deity!  thou  pet  of  heaven! 
Thou  youngest  god,  alike  in  thought  and  being, 
Since  thou  dost  seek  to  fright  the   Huntress 

Queen 

With  talk  of  darts !"   She  paused  to  laugh  again ; 
But  even  in  wrath  is  Eros  ever  gentle, 
And  thus  with  courtesy  divine  made  answer: 

"Truth  hast  thou  said,  Sel6ne",  though  but  half. 
Youngest  of  gods  I  am,  yet  only  Chaos 
Of  all  the  gods  is  older.     Thou  dost  call  me 
The  son  of  Aphrodit6,  yet  I  walked 
In  might  and  power  along  the  wayless  sea 
Ere  the  glad  wave,  which  by  its  death  gave  birth 

55 


SELENE 

To  Cytherea,  burst  in  opal  foam 
Among  the  foam-fair  blossoms  of  Cythera. 
When  thy  bright  moon  was  lonely  and  the  sun 
Uncharioted,  I,  Eros,  from  that  heaven 
Whereunder    heaven's    own    heaven   is   wanly 

spread 

As  'twere  a  floor  of  agate  sifted  o'er 
With  dust  of  topaz,  looked  into  the  future, 
Deep  pondering,  when  on  a  sudden,  lo! 
My  inmost  thoughts  did  visible  become, 
And  there  was  light  and  life.    Thus  much  I  tell 

thee, 

O  Artemis,  that  not  in  ignorance 
Thou  mayst  defy  me,  who  of  all  the  gods 
Am  most  inevitably  that  I  am." 

Again  felt  Artemis  unwonted  awe, 

And  fate's  cold  breath  seemed  tingling  through 

her  hair, 

But  still  her  arrogant  pose  of  mind  and  body 
She,  obstinate  one,  maintained,  thus   answer 
ing: 

"  Easy  as  darts  are  winged  words  to  speed, 
And  even  as  little  do  I  fear  them,  Eros; 
Nor  can  I  bring  to  light  thy  hidden  meaning, 
For  surely  thou  dost  speak  in  parables." 

56 


SELENE 

"To  that  which  I  do  speak,  O  Artemis, 
'Twere  best  thou  hearken  both  with  mind  and 

body." 
And  though  his  lips  still  smiled  his  brow  was 

stern. 

"Themis  hath  warned  thee  by  that  oracle 
Which  she  most  justly  thought   thou  wouldst 

revere ; 

Thy  hapless  mother  through  thy  hapless  nurse 
A  second  time  hath  warned  thee ;  and  to-night 
I,  Eros — he  'gainst  whom  thou  wast  so  cautioned — 
A  third  time  cry  '  Beware!'     Nay,  I  remind  thee 
In  no  wise  tauntingly,  but  all  in  kindness, 
That  by  descent  thou'rt  only  half  divine, 
And  that  through  me  thou  earnest  into  being. 
Nor  speak,  O  Dian,  till  that  I  have  finished, 
Lest  haply  thou  shouldst  add  more  bitterness 
Unto  that  cup  which  Mcera  now  is  mixing, 
And  which  thou,  wilful   one,  dost  seem  deter 
mined, 
Though  trebly  warned,  to  snatch  from  out  her 

hand. 

Know,  then,  O  goddess,  that  thy  very  pride 
Doth  prove  thee  lacking  in  divinity. 
Moreover,  that  through  me  and  me  alone 
Canst  thou  become  in  everything  divine." 

57 


SELENE 

Whereat  proud  Artemis,  wrath  conquering  awe : 
"  Blasphemer,  doubly  blasphemous  since  thou, 
Even    thou    thyself,    art    numbered    with    the 

gods. 

What  hath  the  Goddess  of  White  Chastity 
To  do  with  gorgeous  Love  ?     Thou  wouldst  not 

dare 
Such  words  to  utter  were  not  Phcebos  sleep- 

ing!" 

But  Eros,  grown  more  kinglike  as  to  mien, 
From  lips  disdainful  sped  his  arrowy  words: 
"  Chastity  is  not  abstinence,  but  temperance. 
True  Chastity  is  truer  for  true  love. 
Negative  purity  white  pebbles  have, 
Being  cold  and  white,  even  as  thou  art,  Selene", 
Who  art  not  chaste  because  of  conquered  fire, 
But  merely  chill,  bearing  a  heart  unkindled." 

Then  Artemis,  more  lurid  pale  with  anger 
Than  snow-fields  by  the  glare  of  lightning  flashed 
Against  an  ebon  sky,  caught  up  her  bow, 
And  towards  the  quiet  god  eager  advanced. 
But  scarce  three  onward  paces  had  she  ta'en 
When  Eros,  reaching  out  one  delicate  arm, 
All  listlessly  as  though  to  bend  a  flower 

58 


SELENE 

Drooping  too   near  his  eyes,  said,    "Come  no 

nearer." 
And   lo!    those  glittering  feet  that  tread  the 

sky 

As  'twere  a  turquoise  pavement,  to  the  earth 
Straightway  were  fixed ;  nor  could  she  wield  her 

bow, 

But  like  as  when  great  Here's  arms  were  bound 
By  wrathful  Zeus  in  chains  of  gold,  so  now 
Selene's  arms  in  viewless  chains  were  fettered. 

Then  Love,  with  solemn  eyes  grown  pitiful, 
Spake  low,  in   tones  more   haunting  sad   and 

sweet 

Than  those  by  wings  of  sea-birds  desolate, 
Soft  smitten  from  a  long-unfingered  lyre, 
Whose  silver  cords,  rusted  by  many  a  tear, 
By  many  a  kiss  made  warm,  ere  rain  and  sun 
Had  all  their  will  of  them,  still  dimly  shine 
Above  the  altar  of  a  ruined  temple 
Unto  whose  horns  the  slimy  sea-weed  clings 
Where    once   hung  wreaths   of  roses  red   and 

white, 

Such  as  by  Aphrodit6  are  beloved: 
"Pardon,  0  goddess,  since  I  thus  have  bound 

thee, 

s  59 


SELENE 

That  in  the  end  full  freedom  may  be  thine, 
Unto  my  words  attending,  which  if  heard  not, 
Thou,  uninformed,  dire  thraldom  mayst  bring 

down 

Upon  thy  radiant  head.     Give  ear,  Sel6ne", 
And  let  thy  heart,  too,  listen,  for  I  purpose 
To  teach  thee  somewhat  of  my  real  nature, 
Which  unto  mortals — ay,  and  unto  gods — 
Is  little  known.     Nor  let  thy  proud  soul  smile 
When  I  inform  thee,  Artemis,  that  thou 
No  higher  honourest,  no  more  desirest 
Immaculate  and  immortal  chastity 
Than  doth  the  God  of  Love.    Ay,  though  thou 

scoff  est, 

Am  I  the  only  god  in  whom  vain  man 
Seeth  the  reflex  of  himself?     Thou,  Dian, 
Are  there  not  countries  where  to  thee,  blood- 
hating, 

Mankind  their  fellow-men  do  offer  up, 
Thinking  by  acts  of  slaughter  all  abhorrent, 
And  murder's  crimson  reek,  hot-smoking,  thee, 
Goddess  of  chilly  flame  and  infinite  whiteness, 
Thus  to  propitiate  ?     By  titles  false 
Art  thou  not  also  called,  and  as  Brauronia 
Is  not  the  tender  flesh  of  Spartan  boys 
Scourged  in  thy  honour,  till  thy  snowy  altar 

60 


SELENE 

Shines  red  withal  as  Aphrodite's  lips? 
Still  more,  in  Ephesus,  what  rites  are  thine, 
What  form  revolting,  what  poor  maimed  priests ! 
And  sayest  thou,  then,  gods  may  not  be  traduced 
Even  by  the  very  piety  of  their  worshippers? 
Alas!  not  so,   and  I  of  all  Olympos 
By  names  most  various  and  most  false  am  hailed : 
For  now  they  call  me  son  of  Pandemea, 
And  now  Urania's  offspring;  now  as  Pothos 
I  am  invoked,  and  now  as  one  with  Himeros, 
Or  as  a  child  am  coaxed  by  frivolous  women, 
Or  with  lascivious  orgies  am  approached, 
As  I  a  greater  Dionysos  were, 
Of  wine  more  heady  and  of  nymphs  more  fair. 
But  this  the  truth,  awful,  nor  even  by  thee, 

0  Artemis,  lightly  to  be  received. 

1  am  the  mirror  of  the  universe, 
Wherein  or  men  or  gods  themselves  behold. 
If  heavenly  their  natures,  then  in  me 

The  essence  of  the  heavenly  they  perceive, 
And  as  Urania's  comrade  give  me  worship; 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  with  eyeballs  seared 
By  fumes  of  earthly  fire,  they  gaze  on  me, 
I,  through  that  bickering  and  ensanguined  flame, 
To  them  appear  the  Love  common  to  all, 
Birds,  beasts,  and  men ;  and,  turning  from  the  stars 

61 


SELENE 

Unto  the  sparks  thrown  off  from  hearts  inflamed 
By  the  Pandemian  Venus,  me  they  worship 
As  offspring  of  that  earthly  deity. 
Thus  fell  poor  Sterope",  that  hapless  star, 
Twi-natured,  for  alternately  she  glowed 
With  crimson  rays  of  passion  all  too  earthly, 
Or  with  the  violet  of  celestial  ardour; 
And  loving  thus,  with  double  soul,  a  mortal, 
Him  could  not  win  to  immortality, 
But  fell  herself,  becoming  less  than  mortal, 
Nor  freeing  from  its  sensual  mesh  his  soul. 
Ay,  thus  she  fell.     But  this  her  fault  essential 
She  doth  impute  to  me,  saying  that  in  wrath 
I  hurled  her  out  of  heaven;  being  ignorant 
That,  save  with  their  consent,  not  even  Love 
May  cast  from  heaven  the  souls  that  once  have 

gained  it; 

Nor  doth  she  dream,  nor  any,  that  mine  eyes 
Oft  burn  with  holy  tears,  watching  the  pangs 
Of  those  who  worship  me  as  Love  Pandemos; 
Or  that  full  many  a  time  when  Eros  smiles 
His  soul  doth  weep,  or  how  through  bitter  ages 
He,  pitiful — yea,  very  pitiful 
Of  ignorant  man — who  fire  prefers  to  light, 
To  him  doth  ceaseless  cry,  in  many  a  voice, 
By  tongue  of  sea,  and  wind,  and  hymning  sphere, 

62 


SELENE 

By  sighs  of  great-souled  women  wed  to  those 
Who  as  a  pastime  look  on  married  love, 
And  with  their  bodies,  not  their  spirits,  worship ; 
By  groans  of  poets  yoked  to  empty  beauty, 
To  women  fair  as  flameless  lamps  are  fair, 
Whose  eyes  unlighted  by  the  soul  within 
Gaze  ever  downward  at  the  sea  of  passion, 
From  out  whose  fiery  spume  leaped  Aphrodite, 
Nor  in  that  ever-troubled  deep  behold 
So  much  as  the  reflection  of  the  heavens ; 
By  sobs  of  delicate  maidens  on  whose  breasts 
Desire's  sweet  rose  is  laid  with  all  its  thorns; 
By  man's  true  self  that  pleads  within  his  breast 
For  holy  temperance  even  in  ecstasy. 
Yet,  though  not  all  in  vain  my  voice  is  raised, 
Few,  few  there  are  who  worship  me  aright. 
Those  few  alone  know  heavenly  happiness, 
Pure  treasure  of  the  spirit-conquered  being, 
Nor  while  on  earth  envy  the  placid  gods. 
Thou  canst  not  doubt  me,  Phoebe",  since  to  thee, 
Scornful  alike  of  me  and  of  my  power, 
I  have  revealed  myself  as  unto  none 
In  heaven  or  earth ;  and  for  thy  sake,  O  goddess. 
Know,  then,  that  ere  time  was,  or  gods  or  men, 
It  was  decreed  that  thou  shouldst  feel  my  power. 
Unto  this  end  thou,  dauntless,  didst  defy 

63 


SELENE 

The  Delphian  Oracle,  nor  wouldst  be  warned, 

Even  by  me.     Yet,  knowing  me,  take  comfort; 

My  shafts,  though  keen,  strike  wisdom  through 
the  blood; 

My  wounds,  though  never  healed,  heal  the  soul, 

By  pride  and  scorn  and  self-devotion  cankered. 

My  service,  worthily  done,  makes  kings  more 
kingly, 

Freeth  the  souls  of  slaves,  to  gods  adds  god 
head, 

Yea,  even  thee,  O  daughter  of  great  Zeus, 

Will  render  more  divine." 

Glowing,  he  paused, 

And  fixed  her,  cold  one,  with  his  yearning  eyes; 
But  she,  still  haughty  and  with  soul  unmoved, 
Stood  in  the  marvellous  radiance  of  that  look 
Like  to  a  lovely  form  of  ice  that  glitters 
Beneath  the  splendour  of  the  morning  star, 
Illumined,  yet  unmelted,  thus  replying: 
"Thou  sayest,  O  god,  ready  in  praise  of  self, 
That  I  am  lacking  in  divinity, 
And  save  through  thee  can  ne'er  be  all  divine. 
Know  this,  that  rather  would  I  lose  what  now, 
According  to  thy  words,  is  mine  of  godhead 
Than  owe  to  thee  a  throne  mightier  than  He're''s. 

64 


SELENE 

Dost  thou  in  truth  think  me  so  ignorant 
Of  all  thy  subtle  wiles :  thy  quips,  thy  feignings, 
Thy  labyrinths  of  specious,  golden  phrase, 
Thy  glittering  words  that  blind  poor  Reason's 

eyes, 

Thy  honeyed  arguments,  that,  being  placed 
Within  the  scales  of  Justice,  clog  the  beam 
With  very  sweetness,  till,  although  the  cause 
Of  thine  opponent  be  in  truth  more  weighty 
Than  is  the  load  of  Atlas,  yet  to  thee 
That  tricked  beam  will  bow  ?     Nay,  well  I  know 

thee, 

Better,  by  Zeus!  than  thou  knowest  me,  for  thus 
Did  Hermes,  supple-tongued  and  full  of  guile, 
Strive  to  deceive  great  Phcebos,  who  as  little 
Him  credited  as  Phoebe"  credits  thee. 
Yet,  if  perchance  thou  dost  believe  thy  falsehood, 
And  thinkest  that  I  am  doomed  to  feel  thy  power 
Beyond  what  now  I  feel,  unloose  mine  arms, 
That  thou  mayst  conquer  worthily,  nor  smite 
Whom   first   by  Mcera's  aid  thou  hast  made 

helpless." 

Then  Eros  gave  a  cry,  exceeding  bitter, 
As  of  a  mighty  soul  misunderstood 
By  one  beloved  yet  of  lesser  mould: 

65 


SELENE 

"Alas,  Sel6n6!  art  thou  so  determined, 

In  spite  of  all,  to  be  mine  enemy  ? 

Oh,  chill  of  fancy!     Wilt  thou  then  refuse, 

So  often  warned,  the  blessing  of  my  friendship  ?" 

Whereat  Sel6n6  laughed,  the  ready  laugh 
Of  those  unused  to  tears,  with  upward  chin 
And  eyes  no  whit  less  arrogant  than  before, 
To  him  thus  answering:  "  Idly  dost  thou  speak, 
For  how  should   I   from    thee    receive    aught 

goodly, 

Seeing  that  for  me  the  oracle  proclaims 
Whether  I  be  or  friend  or  foe  of  thine, 
Sorrow  on  sorrow,  grief  on  grief  up-piled?" 

But  ever-patient  Love,  her  scorn  unheeding: 
"And  knowest  thou  not,  O  sister  of  Apollo, 
That  in  an  oracle  hide  many  meanings 
Of  which  but  one  is  true  ?     Once  more  attend 
While  I  expound  to  thee  that  prophecy 
By  Themis  uttered,  lest  in  days  to  come 
Thou  shouldst  reproach  me  with  my  silence  now. 
Behold  the  hidden  meaning  of  her  words: 
If  thou  my  foe  becomest,  then,  indeed, 
Sorrow  will  fall  on  thee  and  mortal  pain, 
But  pain  bewildered,  seeing  not  its  aim ; 

66 


SELENE 

Like  as  when  one  is  wounded  in  the  dark, 

And  knoweth  not  which  way  to  turn  his  feet, 

Lest  on  his  enemy's  spear  he  run  again, 

Or  into  some  deep  precipice  should  stumble. 

If  I  become  thy  foe,  still  worse  the  anguish, 

For  then,  Sele'ne,  thy  defiant  heart 

A  loveless  immortality  must  know — 

Yea,  an  eternity  of  lonely  power, 

Majestic,  glorious,  barren  as  a  sphere 

Of  maiden  ice  with  azure  lightning  zoned. 

Thou  wilt  remain  the  unfinished  being  thou  art, 

Half  goddess  great,  half  woman  undeveloped; 

A  force  incapable  of  creating  joy 

For  others  or  thyself;  the  frozen  twin 

Of  life -bestowing  Phcebos;  the  one  creature 

In  heaven  or  earth  in  all  or  part  divine, 

Ignorant  of  that  mystery  supreme 

Whereby  thou  wast  thyself  brought  into  being. 

If  thou  my  friend  becomest  verily, 

Still  woe  on  weary  woe  shall  be  thy  portion, 

For  terrible  the  ways,  and  stained  with  heart's 

blood 

Of  men,  of  gods,  the  ways  devious  and  dark, 
That  lead  unto  mine  everlasting  house, 
Set  in  a  tideless  sea  of  golden  air, 
Amidst  of  gardens,  wherein  all  may  find 

67 


SELENE 

Their  childhood  dreams  made  real,  and,  looking 

back, 

Rejoice,  -since  grief  endured  redoubles  joy. 
Still  woe,  I  say,  shall  be  thy  portion  then, 
But  woe  desired  and  sweet  in  bitterness, 
Like  unto  that  of  one  who  chooses  rather 
To  weep,  at  last,  above  the  death-chilled  form 
Of  his  beloved  than  never  to  have  felt 
The  warm  lips  warmer  grow  beneath  his  kiss, 
Or  in  the  kindled  eyes  ne'er  to  have  bathed, 
As  in  a  holy  fire,  his  eager  soul, 
Now  so  bereft  of  all  but  true  bereavement. 
This  if  thou  art  my  friend,  O  Cynthia. 
But  lo!  if  in  return  I  do  become 
Thy  friend,  thy  guide,  thy  comrade  freely  chosen, 
Then,  Artemis,  thou  shalt  a  throne  possess 
Greater  by  far  than  H6r6's  chair  of  gold ; 
A  kingdom  such  as  Zeus  hath  never  swayed; 
A  height  of  vast,  immaculate  repose, 
Wherefrom  Olympos,  viewed,  will  seem  a  mound 
Of  marble-dust  by  children  heaped  in  play. 
Then  shalt  thou  feel  the  full  divinity 
Which  now  thou  dost  declare  to  be  thine  own; 
Then  shalt  thou  wear  true  chastity,  that  jewel 
Found  in  the  core  of  hearts  by  me  ignited 
And  purified,  not  scorched  by  their  own  flames, 

68 


SELENE 

Forever  unconsumed,  forever  burning. 
Nor  fear  to  be  my  friend,  since  thou  in  me 
Wilt  find  the  true  reflection  of  thyself." 
Again  he  paused,  while  o'er  his  face  there  stole 
A  look  of  wistful  majesty,  supreme 
In  pathos,  like  as  though  a  mighty  king, 
Loving  of  heart  and  yet  by  none  beloved, 
Should  sue,  with  anxious  eyes  and  crown  ex 
tended, 

A  little  arrogant  child  for  some  small  sign 
Of  recognition.     But  the  goddess  smiled 
The  maddening  smile  of  self -sure  maidenhood, 
And  thus  replied:     "For  thy  much  speaking, 

Eros, 

I,  spoken  to,  my  earnest  thanks  extend  thee. 
Loose  now  mine  arms,  I  pray  thee,  Orator, 
That  I  yet  more  may  thank  thee  for  a  deed 
Of  generosity  in  generous  silence  done." 

Whereat  the  god  said,  softly :    "  Be  thou  loosed." 
And  Artemis,  exultant,  from  her  quiver 
Caught  up  a  fateful  shaft,  thus  fierce  exclaim 
ing: 

"  If,  as  thou  sayest,  I  am  but  half  divine, 
This  arrow  given  me  by  my  father  Zeus, 
By  him  made  irresistible,  will  free  me — 

69 


SELENE 

Ay,  thou  most  soft  of  voice  and  hard  of  heart, 
From  thee  a  refuge  will  procure  for  me, 
Even  in  the  halls  of  Hades."     Crying  thus, 
Deep  in  her  frost -bright  breast  the  shaft  she 
plunged. 

As  when  a  delicate  winter-laden  tree, 
Beneath  the  first  faint  roseate  glow  of  dawn, 
Doth  seem  once  more  its  April  bloom  to  wear, 
So  Artemis,  beneath  that  wrathful  stroke. 
For  lo!  a  tender  crimson,  not  of  blood, 
Floated  aerial  e'er  her  pierced  breast, 
O'er  brow  and  cheek  and  throat,  crept  wavering, 
Till  like  a  flame  within  a  shell  of  ice 
Scarlet  her  crescent  flashed.     She  waned,  she 

glowed, 

She  trembled,  not  as  one  by  arrow  smitten, 
But  like  unto  a  shaft  itself,  quick  quivering 
Within  a  stalwart  oak,  more  hurt  than  hurting. 
Yea,  even  so  she  shivered,  while  with  fear 
Her  bright  hair  rose  about  her  haughty  head 
As  'twere  a  gilded  smoke  up-shimmering; 
And  all  her  face  waxed  keen  with  novel  dread, 
And  thin   her  nostrils   grew,   and  parched  her 

lips, 

And  at  her  feet  clanged  down  her  glinting  bow ; 

70 


SELENE 

And  her  dear  moon  changed  with  her,  till  that 

men, 

Beholding  o'er  the  violet  rim  of  the  sea 
Its  coral-coloured  orb  in  splendour  drifting, 
Deemed  it  a  ship  on  fire. 

Then  loud  she  cried 
In  voice  soul-freezing,  of  divinity 
By  fate  o'erta'en,  that  voice  which  makes  de 
spair 

Of  lesser  beings  seem  hope:  "Woe!    Woe  is  me! 
I  change.     I  am  no  longer  Artemis. 
Unto  myself  I  am  become  a  stranger; 
I  feel  no  more  as  I  have  felt.     O  Zeus, 
Is  this,  then,  death?     Was  I  but  half  divine? 
Alas!     Alas!     What  fearful  shafts  are  mine! 
Flame  mixes  with  my  blood,  and  past  my  ears 
I  hear  it  hiss.     My  breast  is  full  of  fire. 
Even  thee,  O  thou  revengeful,  even  thee 
Only  as  burning  mist  I  do  behold. 
Yea,  surely  this  is  death,  for  all  my  soul 
Grows  liquid,  flowing  forth,  I  know  not  how, 
Unto  some  mystic  depth,  I  know  not  what, 
Like  as  a  river  maddeth  to  the  sea. 
Father,  I  die.     Snap  thou  my  bow  in  twain, 
That  weaker  hands  may  not  profane  its  might; 


SELENE 

And  this  proud  arrow  which  hath  drunk  my 

greatness, 

Oh,  pierce  with  it  the  cruel  breast  of  Eros, 
That  never  more  may  he  with  venomed  shafts 
Corrode  the    hearts    to    peace  and  chasteness 

vowed. 

Yea,  Artemis  is  dying,  glad  to  die, 
Since  life  had  meant  a  servitude  to  Love. 
Now  do  I  comprehend  why  noble  beings 
The  silence  of  Death's  gloomy  halls  prefer 
Unto  the  prison-palace  reared  by  Life — 
Darkness  in  freedom  unto  light  in  chains. 
O  Death,  whose  secret  name  is  Liberty, 
Better  it  were  to  have  thee  for  a  friend, 
To  range  thy  starless  realm  possessed  of  naught 
Beside  a  soul  untrammelled  and  at  ease, 
Than  rule  in  fetters  on  the  throne  of  Heaven. 
And  yet — can  this  be  death?     O  sweet,  sweet, 

sweet  !-— 

O  fiery  sweet! — O  sweet  beyond  all  sweetness! — 
O  immortality,  well  art  thou  lost 
If  this  indeed  be  death.     Again!     Again! 
Exquisite  thirst  consumes  me!    Ah!     I  burn! 
One   draught   before  I   die  —  one   deep,    deep 

draught ! 

One  draught  of  Love,  O  Death,  before  I  die!" 

72 


SELENE 

"  Drink,"  said  a  solemn  voice.  "  The  hour  is  here. 
Drink  of  the  cup  that  thou  wast  born  to  drink  of, 
O  Artemis,  the  cup  of  love  and  fate." 
Then  quick  wheeled  Artemis,  as  oft  had  wheeled, 
By  her  keen  shaft  transfixed,  some  throbbing 

doe, 

And  lo!  a  shadow  huge  with  eyes  of  light 
And  outline  feminine,  to  her  extending 
A  goblet  dark  wherein  there  seemed  to  whirl 
A  clear,  black  flame  with  ruby  sparkles  rayed. 
And   once    again    the    implacable   voice    said, 

"Drink." 

Then  Artemis,  unarmed,  sore-smitten,  trembling: 
"  O  awful  shape,  who  art  thou  ?  Art  thou  Death  ?" 

But  that  murk  form,  the  cup  still  holding  forth: 

"  I  am  the  third  in  that  triumvirate 

Which  rules  the  universe  —  Love,  Death,  and 

Fate. 

Mcera  my  name,  and  this  thy  destined  cup. 
Nor  canst  thou  choose  but  drink,  O  Artemis, 
For  lo!  the  arrow  that  hath  pierced  thy  heart 
No  arrow  was  of  thine,  but  one  by  me 
From  out  Love's  quiver  drawn,  and  thence  to 

thine, 

73 


SELENE 

Unseen   of  thee,   transferred.     Quenchless   the 

thirst 

It  hath  enkindled  in  thy  seething  veins 
Save  by  this  potent  drink  I  proffer  thee, 
Which,  though  thou  shouldst  refuse  ten  thousand 

times, 

At  last,  O  arrogant  one,  upon  thy  knees 
Thou'lt  sue  me  to  bestow,  so  fierce  the  craving, 
So  all  unconquerable  the  desire 
Of  those  whom  Eros  wounds,  for  Fate's  black 

wine." 

Then  Artemis,  defiant  to  the  end, 
Shaped  her  proud  mouth  to  fit  a  mocking  laugh, 
But  there  did  issue  forth  instead  a  groan, 
Terrible  as  of  those  in  Tauris  slain 
Upon  her  altars,  while  from  wood  and  glen 
There  rang  a  chuckling  sound  like  to  the  noise 
By  satyrs  made,  when,  from  a  leafy  covert 
Peering,  they  note  some  flying  dryad  fall — 
Harsh,   clattering   notes   of   vulgar   mirth  tri 
umphant, 

Like  clack  of  waves  beneath  a  hollow  rock. 
Again  she  strove  to  laugh,  again  she  groaned. 
Seizing  her  tender  breast  with  furious  hands, 
As  though  to  tear  away  the  kindled  heart 
That  shot  such  light  of  frenzy  to  her  eyes, 

74 


SELENE 

Those  eyes  of  Dian,  erstwhile  calm  and  clear 
As  ice  reflecting  back  a  twilit  heaven. 
Nor  knew  she  what  she  felt,  nor  that  herself 
Had  cried  aloud  to  drink,  ere  death,  of  love,    . 
So  wrought  that  fire  immortal  in  her  veins, 
With  madness  filling  her  and  with  desire 
For  what  she  knew  not,  save  that  'twas  desired 
Above  all  things  familiar  and  possessed. 
And,  feeling  more  and  more  that  savage  thirst 
Wring  her  proud  veins,  she,  turning  suddenly 
From  Mcera's  hand,  did  smite  the  fateful  cup. 
But  lo!  a  miracle — for  on  the  ground 
Flowed  not  the  darkling  flame,  nor  was  the  cup 
Against  the  jagged  rock  to  fragments  dashed, 
But  in  the  air  it  floated  till  its  rim 
Pressed  close  the  haughty  lips  of  Artemis, 
Whose  every  pulse  seemed  shrieking,  "Drink! 

Drink!     Drink!" 

And  once  again  that  awful  one  said,  "Drink!" 
And  then  the  voice  of  Eros  murmured,  "Drink," 
But  softly,  as  a  mother  to  her  babe 
When  from  the  brimming  breast  it  turns  away 
By  very  thirst  confused — softness  divine 
That  when  Selene'  heard,  anew  she  trembled, 
But  this  time  not  with  fear  or  wrath.     "O 
Love," 
«  75 


SELENE 

Thus  from  her  heart  burst  forth  the  new-born 

fire — 

"  O  Love,  if  I  have  wronged  thee,  pardon  me ; 
I  know  not  where  I  am  or  who,  in  truth — 
Meseems  I  am  a  sleep-bewildered  dryad, 
Who  dreamed  that  she  was  mighty  Artemis." 
And  through  the  only  tears  she  e'er  had  known, 
Pathetic  in  her  new  timidity 
As  is  a  bride  in  bridal  freshness  clad, 
She  wistful  gazed  about  in  search  of  Eros. 
Alas!  she  saw  him  not  as  formerly, 
In  full  effulgence,  for  between  them  rose 
That  grisly  shape;  but  through  its  essence  thin 
His  glory  shone  in  tempered  loveliness, 
As  through  a  shadowed  sail  the  silver  moon. 
And  thus  to  her  his  words  came,  clear  and  sweet, 
Like  sound  from  bells  afloat  on  southern  seas: 

"  Take  heart,  O  lovely  one,  of  very  fear, 
Of  very  pain  take  heart  to  be  thyself; 
Not  as  thou  wert  indeed,  for  nevermore 
Canst  thou  return  unto  thy  former  being; 
Nor  weep  for  grief,  but  rather  for  delight, 
Since  after  thou  hast  drunk  the  cup  of  Fate 
More  Artemis  thou 'It  be  in  every  wise 
Than  e'er  thou  wast  before.    Who  from  that  cup 

76 


SELENE 

Unflinching  quaffs  the  dark  and  burning  wine 
True  godhead  knows;   knows   good   and   evil; 

knows 

To  choose  between  them,  and,  though  agony 
Should  be  the  crown  that  nobleness  must  wear, 
Sublimely  sets  its  thorns  upon  his  brow. 
Nor  in  the  majesty  of  highest  being 
Regrets  the  glow  of  happiness  foregone. 
Drink,  then,  O  Artemis,  and  be  thyself 
Unto  the  full  ideal  of  what  thou  wert 
And  yet  couldst  ne'er  have  been  till  of  this  cup 
Thy  mighty  spirit  had  partaken.     Drink, 
In  willing  calmness,  for  of  Moera's  wine 
Both  gods  and  men  must  drink,  or  soon  or  late. 
Two  ways  alone  there  are  to  taste  of  it: 
The  one  in  dignity  of  free  compliance; 
The  other  when,  within  her  mighty  grasp, 
No  choice  remains  but  that  of  forced  submission." 

Then  Artemis,  a  wonder  to  herself, 
Reached  up  her  slender  hands  and  took  the  cup, 
The  heavy  cup  that  bends  the  wrists  of  gods, 
With  proud  obedience,  him  thus  answering: 
"  Still  of  my  former  self  enough  remains 
To  let  me  from  this  baleful  chalice  drink 
Serene  of  brow  as  when  on  hunting-days 

77 


SELENE 

From  leafy  springs  the  crystal  gush  I  quaffed. 
Nor  do  I  hesitate  from  dread,  O  Eros, 
But  that  I  first  may  learn  if  thou  forgivest 
Her  who  was  Artemis,  who  is  thy  friend?" 

EROS  :  Thou  wast  forgiven  ere  thou  askedst  for 
giveness  ; 

But  ah,  too  late,  too  late  thy  proffered  friendship 
To  save  thee  from  the  woe  thy  scorn   hath 
wrought. 

SELENE  :  Alas !  wilt  thou  mine  enemy  become  ? 

EROS:  Nay,  Artemis,  thy  friend,  as  thou  art 
mine. 

SELENE:  Why,  then,  didst  thou  exclaim,  "Too 
late!    Too  late!"? 

MCERA:  Those  who  have  scoffed  at  Eros  and 

refused 

With  scorn  his  friendship  must  of  me  be  taught 
Ere  in  full  glory  they  again  behold  him. 

SELENE  :  Ah,  woe  is  me,  oft  warned  in  vain,  in 
vain! 

78 


SELENE 

EROS  :  Yet  be  not  all  despairing,  sith  from  grief 
Of  noble  hearts  sweet  gladness  often  wells 
As  fresh  spring-water  from  the  bitter  sea. 
Endure,  achieve,  resign.     Whom  I  befriend 
Are  by  all  gods  befriended  at  the  last. 

SELENE:   Ah,  could  I  look  on  thee  but  once 

again 

Ere  of  this  bitter  cup  I  drink,  O  Love! 
Already  dim  the  memory  of  thy  smile. 

MCERA:  O  hard  to  learn!    How  long  wilt  thou 

delay  ? 

Mine  now  to  teach  thee,  who  Love's  lesson  scorned, 
Long,  long  ere  thou  mayst  look  on  him  again. 

SELENE:  Libation  I  may  pour  him  from  this 
cup? 

MCERA:  Not  so,  for  thou  must  drain  it  every 
drop. 

SELENE:  First  let  me  grasp  my  well-loved  bow 

again 

And  stroke  the  wistful  foreheads  of  my  hounds. 
Farewell,  farewell,  ye  clear  of  eye  and  heart; 

79 


SELENE 

I  know  not  if  again  in  eager  chase 
Together  we  may  rouse  the  sacred  deer ; 
No,  nor  if  I,  your  clanging  notes  pursuing, 
May  follow  through  the  coppice  sweet  with  dew 
Where  shattered  trails  of  blooming  eglantine, 
Torn  by  your  spiked  belts,  enmesh  the  way. 
But  this  I  know,  that  ye  have  served  me  well, 
Therefore,    O    friends,    O    long  -  tried,    trusted 

friends, 

Though  nevermore  ye,  twain  with  Artemis, 
May  scud  the  well-loved  mountains  of  Arcadia, 
Yet  where  her  throne  is  ye  shall  also  be, 
And  shine  among  the  brightest  ones  in  heaven. 

MCERA:    Delay  no   longer  —  almost  gone  thine 
hour. 

SELENE:  Alas,  poor  SteropeM     Mother,  alas! 
And  thou,  O  Phcebos,  dear,  well  art  thou  sleeping ; 
May  no  sad  dreams  of  Phcebe  mar  thy  rest! 
O  grewsome  cup,  how  worn  by  softest  lips 
Thine  adamantine  brim.     Idalia's  self 
Hath  not  so  oft  been  kissed,  nor  by  such  lovers. 
Here  brushed  the  beard  of  great  Prometheus ; 
The  curls  of  Adonais  floated  here; 
Mighty  Achilles  here  did  bend  his  crest. 

80 


SELENE 

Thou  knewest  the  mouth  of  sweet  Persephone", 
Of  piteous  lo,  of  Callisto  frail; 
Poor  Clyte  pressed  against  thy  cruel  lips 
The  lips  whereof  Apollo  would  not  taste. 
The  first  god  drank  of  thee  as  must  the  last, 
As  doth  Selene. 

Speaking  thus  she  quaffed, 
Ay,  to  the  lees,  that  dark  and  bickering  wine. 
As  when  upon  a  lustrous  night  in  June 
A  windy  cloud  the  crystal  moon  obscures, 
Turning  the  silver  waters  into  lead 
And  breathing  dimness  o'er  the  golden  wheat, 
Even  so  before  the  eyes  of  Artemis 
Thin  darkness  wavered,  while  within  her  soul, 
As  through  the  caves  of  Sleep,  a  twilight  spread, 
Dulling  the  precious  gold  of  memory, 
And  bitterly  she  cried:  "Ah,  woe  on  woe! 
Desire  in  blindness,  blindness  in  desire. 
A  mighty  hand  there  is  upon  my  heart-strings, 
And  I  must  follow,  even  as  the  bow 
Follows  the  mastered  cord.     Yet  where  to  turn  ? 
For  all  was  I  prepared  but  utter  darkness. 
Phcebos,  O  Phoebos!  lend  me  of  thy  light, 
Of  thy  magnificence,  but  one  small  ray — 
I  can  bear  all  but  darkness.     Phoebos,  hear!" 

81 


SELENE 

Then,  suddenly,  o'er  sea  and  land  there  burst 

A  splendour,  such  as  light-crowned  Artemis 

Had  ne'er  imagined,  while  the  voice  of  Love, 

He  being  still  invisible,  rang  forth: 

"  My  torch  shall  light  thee  to  thy  heart's  desire, 

O  Artemis.     Fear  not,  but  follow  on 

To  where  thine  eager  soul  hath  leaped  before." 

But  she,  bewildered :  "  All  is  changed,  is  changed. 
This    mountain  know  I    not,   this    shore,   this 

wood — 

All,  all  are  unfamiliar  to  mine  eyes, 
Which  have  beheld,  alas!  or  so  I  thought, 
The  fairest  corners  of  this  fairest  earth. 
Yet  so  ineffable  this  loveliness, 
Perchance  I   dreamed  of  earth  and  wake  in 

heaven." 

MCERA:  Away!    Thy  fate  is  on  thee — past  the 
hour. 

SELENE:  Ai  me!    Who  draweth  me?    I  come! 

I  come! 

O  pain  delicious!     O  mysterious  longing! 
O  hunger  fierce,  divine,  as  of  a  god 
Fire-born,  for  fire!    Endymion,  I  come! 

82 


STROPHE 

I 

Who  fareth  so  fleetly 
In  silver  apparel 
And  aureate  glimmer 
Of  wind-shaken  tresses, 
With  quiver  all  empty 
And  bow-string  unloosened? 
Like  Phoebe's  the  jewel 
Alight  on  her  forehead, 
But  lurid  in  colour, 
Unmeet  for  the  goddess. 

ii 

We  saw  not  before  her 
The  sacred  deer  flying — 
The  gold  of  the  antlers, 
The  collars  of  beryl, 
The  hounds  with  their  baying, 
The  rosy-kneed  maidens; 
Yet  brighter  than  mortals' 
Her  crystalline  sandals, 
Nor  freer,  diviner, 
The  gait  of  the  goddess. 
83 


SELENE 

ANTISTROPHE 


What  frenzy  of  beauty! — 
Still  beauty,  though  maddened! 
What  virginal  pallor! 
What  passion  ecstatic! 
Thus  fled  our  Selen6 
The  river-god's  kisses; 
Thus  Daphn6  the  ardour 
Of  golden  Apollo ; 
A  lily  thus  gleameth 
Whirled  on  by  the  tempest. 

ii 

Lo!  nearer  and  nearer, 
With  quick-throbbing  raiment 
And  hiss  of  long  tresses, 
The  bright  one  approacheth. 
Ala.s!  she  hath  veiled 
Her  delicate  splendour. 
Yet  hearken,  my  sisters, 
Though  lonely  and  troubled, 
A  goddess  I  deem  her. 
O  come!    Let  us  follow! 
84 


SELENE 

SELENE 

I  am  snow!     I  am  fire! 
The  bird  and  its  singing, 
The  wind  and  the  myrtle 
It  rocks  on  its  bosom! 
The  deer  and  the  arrow, 
The  wave  and  the  swimmer, 
Delight  and  desire, 
The  wine-cup,  the  maenad! 

CHORUS 
STROPHE 


Oh,  follow  her,  follow! 
More  sweetly  she  lilteth 
Than  young  Dionysos; 
Or  were  she  his  sister, 
Thus,  thus  would  she  carol! 
Had  flowers  but  voices, 
Meseemeth,  O  sisters, 
A  moon-coloured  poppy 
Would  sing  as  she  singeth. 
Then  follow!    Then  follow! 
85 


SELENE 

II 

What  free  exultation! 

What  triumph  in  being! 

Thus  sang  Cytherea, 

Still  bright  with  the  ocean, 

While  round  her  the  pigeons, 

Like  delicate  foam-wreaths, 

Streamed  white  in  the  starshine; 

And  deep-coloured  flowers 

Unfurled  in  her  footsteps; 

As  softlier  shining 

Than  roses  through  water, 

And  lighter  than  rose-leaves 

On  breezes  upfloating 

She  came  from  the  sea-shore. 

ANTISTROPHE 


Persephone"  sang  thus 
When  first  from  the  darkness, 
Her  bright  head  uplifting, 
She  saw  as  aforetime 
The  April-hued  valley, 
The  cloud-whitened  water, 
The  fatal,  sweet  blossoms. 
86 


SELENE 

ii 

And  thus  sang  Demeter, 
When,  weary  with  praying, 
From  eyelids  long  tearless 
She  looked  and  beheld  her, 
The  long-lost,  the  buried, 
In  all  ways  unaltered, 
With  Hermes  approaching! 

SELENE 

As  the  light  to  the  opal, 
The  bee  to  the  blossom, 
The  wave  to  the  mainland, 
So  I  to  my  rapture! 

CHORUS 
Oh,  follow  her,  follow! 

SELENE 

Thou  breath  of  the  forest, 
Deep,  deep  I  inhale  thee; 
Like  breath  of  a  lover 
Thou  makest  me  tremble. 
O  Pan!    Art  thou  near  me? 
87 


SELENE 

CHORUS 

We  follow!    We  follow! 
O  Pan,  be  thou  near  us! 

SELENE 

Thou  lyrical  water, 

More  sweetly  thou  stealest 

Athrough  the  dim  covert 

Than  into  a  day-dream 

The  song  of  a  throstle! 

What  name  dost  thou  murmur  ?- 

What  message  enchanting? 

"Oh,  hasten,  beloved!" 

Thou  seemest  to  whisper; 

"  I  weary  of  dreaming 

And  fain  would  behold  thee!" 

Ah,  Hermes,  thou  fleet  one, 

My  bow  for  thy  sandals! 

CHORUS 

O  ecstasy  tender! 
O  passionate  yearning! 
Ariadne  thus  singeth, 
When,  winter  well  over, 
88 


SELENE 

The  first  golden  crocus 
With  rapture  recalleth 
The  curls  of  lacchos. 

SELENE 

I  am  sunlight  and  moonlight, 
The  fire  in  the  jewel, 
The  blue  in  the  blossom, 
The  dew  on  its  petals, 
The  pearl  and  the  ocean, 
The  pang  and  the  pleasure, 
The  gift  and  the  giver, 
The  prayer  and  its  answer — 
Immortal  and  mortal! 

CHORUS 

How  golden  the  lyric 
When  sings  an  Immortal 
In  words  the  divinest 
What  long  we  have  treasured 
Unvoiced  in  our  bosoms! 
Oh,  follow  her,  follow! 


THE    END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Book  Slip-35m-7,'63(D8634s4)4280 


College 
Library 


UCLA-College  Library 

PS  3092  S46 

II"1  III"  Hill  IF. 111! 


II  BUI  Hill  Illlllllll  III  Illll  Illlll 
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S 

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546 


